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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT 


THE  Tt(UBlpETE[(  OF  pi^GI^ipl^E]\l 


B'Y 


Victor  E.  Nessler. 


IJkifflJM 


MANUFACTURERS  OF 


GRAND,  UPRIGHT  AND  SQUARE 

PIANOS. 


^::SR 


"'-iJ.'i.H   II  J 


THESE  INSTRUMENTS.  MORE  THAN  FIFTY   YEARS  BEFORE 
THE    PUBLIC,    HAVE,    BY    THEIR    EXCELLENCE,    ATTAINED    AN 
UNPURCHASED     PRE-EMINENCE,     WHICH      ESTABLISHES     THEM 
THE    "UNEQUALLED"    IN 

TONE,  TOUCH, 

WORKMANSHIP  AND  DURABILITY. 


Victoi^  E  Je^^Ier 


English  Version   of  the  German 
Libretto  (by  Bunge)  and  the 


Poems,  of 


^^^vi^wvr 


l/i(;tor"09^ef7effel, 

upon  whose  metrical  romance,  "Der 
Trompeter  von  Sackingen,"  the  operatic 
story  is  based,  by 


JOHN    P    JACKSON, 

Author  of  "  The  Album  of  the  Passio7t  Play  at  Oberammergau,'"  ''Lohengrin, 

Blusically  and  Pictorially  Illustrated,'"  ''Illustrated  Handbook 

to  '  The  Ring  of  the  Nibelung,"'  <2fc.,  (2fc. 


OfOL  OE  OOL  OfiBAffiL  CQ8  INIBB 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS. 


— .►^^^t^s^- — - 
Iper6on0  of  tbe  preluDe. 

WERNER   KIRCHHOF,  Stud.  Jur.,       -.-... 
CONRADIN,  Trooper,       ----____ 
THE  MAJOR  DOMO  of  the  Electress  of  the  Palatinate, 
THE  RECTOR  MAGNIFICUS  of  Heidelberg  University,     - 
A  Student. — Troopers  and  Recruiters. — Students. — Two  Beadles- 


Baritone^ 

-     Baritone. 

Tenor. 

Bass. 

-Cellarmen. 


PLACE : — Heidelberg  Castle. — Towards   the  End  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War. 

Ipersong  ot  tbc  ipiece. 

THE  BARON  OF  SCHOENAU,  ---.-..        Bass. 

MARGARETHA,  his  Daughter,      -----__        Soprano. 
COUNT  OF  WILDEN STEIN,      -----___        Bass. 

HIS  WIFE  {separated  from  him),  the  Baron's  Cousin,    -        -     Mezzo- Soprano. 

DAMIAN,  the  Count's  Son,  from  his  second  marriage,         _        -        _       Tenor. 

WERNER  KIRCHHOF,         ----._..        Baritone. 

CONRADIN,      --------         -         _         Baritone. 

A  Servant  of  the  Baron. — A  Messenger  of  the  Count. — A  Cellarman. — Four  Heralds. 
Youths  and  Maidens. — Citizens  of  Sackingen  and  their  wives. — Hauensiein  Peasants. — 
People. — School-Children. — Dean  and  Chaplains. — Burgomaster  and  Councillors  of  Sack- 
ingen.— Knights  of  the  Teutonic  Order. — Princess-Abbess  and  Noble  Ladies  of  the  Con- 
vent.— Troopers. — Followers  of  the  Count  of  Wildenstein. — The  Landlady  of  the  Inn- 
yclept  "  The  Golden  Button,"  in  Sackingen. — Village  Musicians  of  Hauenstein. 
PLACE :— Sackingen.— TIME  .—After  the  Thirty  Years'  War:  1650. 


Cbaracters  ot  tbe  JSallet  an5  tbe  /iRag  iprocession. 


King  May. 

Princess  May  Blossom. 

Prince  Woodlord. 

Two  Officials. 

Troopers, 

Father  Rhine. 

The  River  Main. 

The  River  Stein. 

Rivers  Lahn,  Ahr  and  Nahe. 

Vintners  and  Vintneresses. 

Knights  of  Scharlachberg, 


Johannisberg, 

Assmanshduser, 

Ruedesheim. 

The  Noble  Ladies: — 

Liebfrauenmilch, 

Moselbluemchen, 

Ahrbluethe. 

The  Dean  of  the  Hochheim. 

Markgraefler. 

Marcobrunner. 

Forster  Traminer. 


Steinberger  Cabinet. 

Children  and  Girls. 

Eight  Pages. 

Townspeople,  Country  People. 

Peasant  Maidens. 

Servants  and  Guests. 

Messengers  of  Spring. 

Goblins. 

Shepherdesses. 

Dragon-Flies,  etc. 

May  Chafers. 


The  Story  of  the  Opera  and  the  English  Version  of  the  Libretto,  entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress  in  the  year  1887^ 
by  John  P.  Jackson,  in  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington,  D.  C, 


Music 


LtbTilf 


I*  lU 


50 


of  ThK^  (Dpc=^  A^^ 


I. 


ROM  Boezberg' s  heights  the  Rhine 
once  fondly  drew  me: — 
I  felt  a  deep  home-yearning  stir 
within: — 
Towards    the  scenes    whose  every 
glory  knew  me: — 
To  the  good  town  of  Sainted  Fri- 
dolin. — 
As  if  in  tny  return  rejoicing  greatly 
It  welcomed  me  in  Auttcitm's  warmth 
and  glow; 
Its  3Iitister  spires,  that  rose  up  nezv  and 
stately. 
Were  mirror  din  the  rushing  stream 
below: — 
High  northward  stretched,  and  bound- 
ing well  the  gaze, 
The     Hozzen      Forest,      shimmering 
through  the  haze. 


Q^'^. 


©rave  of  tbc 
1bero  auD  Iberolne, 


The  Gallic  Tower,  on  Roman  wall  yet 
stable, 
The   Convent,    zvhere   the    Princess- 
Abbess  pray' d; 
All  seem  to  ktiow  mc,  yea,  each  roof 
and  gable 
That  oft  my  shallozu  boat  past  lightly 
sped; 


lie  blanchino , 
A  flowery  laivn  seems  yet  on  me  to 
smile: 

And  half  concealed  amid  the  chestnuts 
branching, 
The  little     Castle's  slender-towered 
pile: 

Glad  greetings  sciidto  where  it  crow7is 
the  ridge. 

And  then  cross    o'er  the  long  wood- 
boarded  bridge. 


THE    POET   AND   THE    COMPOSER. 


III. 

My  duty  first  to  those  good  friends  departed 
Who,  in   the   church-yard,  near  the  Rhine- 
stream  rest: 
Full  many  have  gone,   luho  with  me,  joyous- 
hearted, 
In  the  dear  city  shar''d  in  laugh  and  jest : 
Willi  sadnes^i  I  approach  the  tombstone  hoary. 
That  Werner  Kir chhof  s  name  and  ^scutcheon 

shows: 
And  tells  of  him  and  of  his  spouse  the  story. 
In  words  that  sorrowing  hearts'  lament  dis- 
close:— 
The  twain  whom  Love  had  bound  in  bondage 

dear. 
Were  called  awav  within  the  self-same  year. 
V.  V.  Sch. 

What  German  is  there 
who  has  ever  been  young, 
who  has  loved  or  been 
loved,  who  does  not  know 
Victor  von  Scheftel's 
' '  Trompeter  von  Siik- 
kingen,"  with  its  charm- 
ing story  of  the  loves  of 
Young  Werner  and  the 
fair  Margaretha,  their 
wooing  on  the  Rhine, 
tlieir  cruel  separation,  and 
their  joyous  Wiedersehcn 
in  Rome  ?  It  is  now,  as 
it  has  been  for  over  a 
quarter  of  a  century,  the 
favorite  of  all  classes  ;  in 
hut  and  palace  it  has  de- 
lighted millions.  Ex- 
cepting Schiller's  poems 
and  Goethe's  "Faust," 
both  of  which  are  beyond 
the  pale  of  copy-right 
protection,  no  volume  of 
German  poems  has  ever 
reached  a  sale  of  a 
quarter  of  a  million  cop- 
ies, as  has  been  the  case 
with  the  "Trumpeter." 
When  it  is  remembered 
that  a  sale  of  five  thou- 
sand copies  of  a  book  ot 

poems  is  considered  in  Germany  a  sensational 
success,  it  will  be  seen  what  a  vast  influence 
Scheffel's  work  has  had  among  Teutonic 
readers.  But  his  fame  did  not  rest  entirely 
on  his  "Trumpeter."  When  he  died  it  was 
found  that  of  his  principal  works  his  romance 
"Ekkehard"  had  passed  through  ninety  edi- 
tions, his  "Gaudeamus"  fifty,  and  the  "Trum- 
peter" one  hundred  and  forty.  Of  his  other 
works— "Frau  Aventiure,"  "  Berg-Psalmen, " 
"Hugideo,"  "Juniperus,"  "  Waldeinsamkeit," 
thirty-five  editions  had  appeared,  making  alto- 
gether a  hundred  thousand  copies.  In  the 
book-printing  office  of  Adolf  Bonz  &  Co.,  of 
Stuttgart,  there  is  one  steam  press  on  which 
the  works  of  no  other  author  except  Scheffel 


have  ever   been  printed.     It  is  known  as  the 
"Scheffel  Press." 

But  this  does  not  exhaust  the  extent  of  his 
fame.  Scores  of  his  poems  have  been  set  to 
music,  and  his  student,  songs  from  "Gaude- 
amus" have  been  sung  millions  of  times. 
"  He  is  the  singer  of  German  Studententhum," 
says  a  biographer;  "and  of  all  the  songs  that 
are  sung  night  after  night  in  the  Kneipes  from 
Kiel  to  Gratz,  from  Strassburg  to  Dorpat  and 
Czernowitz,  fully  one-half  are  the  product  of 
his  pen  ....  From  the  blue  Alsatian  moun- 
tains, where  the  German  sings  his  Strassburg 
Hymn,  to  the  steppes  of  South  Russia,  where 
the  Pfarrer  in  the  German  colonist  villages 
sings  the  songs  of  his  ' '  Gaudeamus  "  as  a  fond 
remembrance  of  his  student  days;  in  South  and 

North  and  on  the  other 
side  of  the  great  Atlan- 
tic, all  know  Scheffel's 
poems.  And  when  he 
died  all  joined  in  the  uni- 
versal sorrow.  Young 
girls  and  fair  women 
took  down  the  "Trum- 
peter" from  the  shelf, 
to  weep  once  more  over 
the  songs  and  farewell 
of  Young  Werner,  and 
to  laugh  over  the  philo- 
sophical lamentations  of 
the  famous  cat  Hiddi- 
geigei.  Many  a  man 
again  took  down  the 
romance  of  "Ekkehard" 
and  had  a  fresh  enjoy- 
ment in  the  tragedy  and 
humor  of  that  incompar- 
able book.  Students, 
with  heart  felt  sorrow, 
sang  the  "  Trauer-Sala- 
mander,"  and  with  weep- 
ing hearts  but  laughing 
lips,  of  the  convulsing 
eventuality  that  happened 
in  the  Black  Whale  Inn 
at  Ascalon,  or  of  the 
famous  lament  of  the 
Ichthyosaurus.  Yes,  his 
songs  were  the  very 
sunniest  sunshine." 
Von  Scheffel  died  on  the  9th  of  April,  1886. 
In  August  of  that  year  he  was  expected  to  take 
part  in  the  great  Heidelberg  University  Festival. 
But  the  singer,  Heidelberg's  Liedermund,  as  he 
was  called,  who  had  praised  the  beauty  of  the 
old  university  city  in  his  poems,  whose  songs 
the  students  had  sung  for  over  a  quarter  of  a 
century,  was  not  present  In  the  midst  of  all 
his  preparations  to  join  in  the  glorification  of 
his  Alma  Mater  he  was  called  away.  Mr.  Kreh- 
biehl,  in  a  letter  to  the  Tribune  describing  the 
celebration  of  the  five  hundredth  anniversary 
of  Heidelberg  University,  said:  "Had  Scheffel 
lived  a  few  months  longer  he  would  have  shared 
the  honors  of  the  Jubilee  with  the  Crown  Prince 
of  Germany  and  the  Grand  Y)ukQ  of  Baden. 


11 


THE    POET   AND    THE    COMPOSER. 


its  joys  to  sorrow 
was  present  in  his 
through  the  streets, 
up  from  the  Neckar 
besides  in    the 


and  the  ovation  which  would  have  been 
brought  him  by  the  thousands  to  whom  he 
has  vouch-safed  such  swelHngs  of  the  heart 
as  no  other  German  writer  of  the  century, 
would  have  been  a  thousand  times  as  sincere 
and  a  hundred  times  more  enthusiastic  as 
that  which  greeted  the  representatives  of 
royalty.  But  the  old  singer  of  the  glories 
of  Heidelberg  and  the  Black  Forest  was 
dead,  and,  doubtless,  many  of  his  admirers 
and  friends,  like  his  confrere  Felix  Dahn,  re- 
mained away  from  the  festival  because  his 
absence  would  change 
for  them.  Yet  Scheh'el 
songs,  which  resounded 
down  from  the  castle  and 
incessantly.  He  was  present 
Jubilee  Ode  which  he 
put  into  the  hands  of 
Vincenz  Lachner  for 
composition  not  long 
before  he  died,  which, 
compared  with  some  of 
the  songs  in  his  ' '  Gau- 
deamus "  and  the 
''Trumpeter,"  especi- 
ally with  the  "Alt  Hei- 
delberg, du  feine," 
which  ornamented  a 
hundred  house-fronts, 
was  an  indifferent  pro- 
duction, though  it  had 
some  of  that  eager, 
bounding  joyousness 
which  is  so  marked  a 
characteristic  of  the 
poet's  work." 

The  death  of  the  poet 
created  a  profound  im- 
pression wherever  Ger- 
mans dwelt;  especially 
upon  the  German  col- 
ony in  Rome,  by  whom 
he  was  warmly  beloved 
and  revered.  The  best 
of  his  poetic  works  had 
been  produced  among 
them,  and  even  the  "Trumpeter"  had  gained 
its  poetic  shape  in  Rome.  A  German  writer 
describes  the  Italian  haunts  of  the  poet: 
"Some  of  Scheffel's  best  poetic  works  were 
produced  in  the  little  mountain  village  of  Ole- 
vano,  son-e  forty  odd  miles  from  Rome,  in  the 
Sabine  range.  The  poet  lived  for  a  long  time 
at  the  Casa  iialdi,  a  little  inn  more  celebrated 
for  the  lack  than  for  the  quantity  of  its  com- 
forts, but  the  peculiar  situation  of  which,  and 
its  surrounding  beauty  of  scenery,  were  no 
doubt  elements  that  materially  aided  the  in- 
spiration of  the  giftet  poet.  The  lofty  moun- 
tain peaks,  rising  back  of  the  humble  cottage, 
the  wood  of  the  Serpentara,  now  owned  by  the 
German  Government  as  an  heirloom  for  her  ar- 
tists in  Italy;  the  rocky  pathways  trodden  by  the 
sandaled  feet  of  the  lowly  contadbii,  who  climb 
at  night  to  their  cloudland  homes;  and  even  the 
inmates  of  the  Casa  Baldi  itself,  despite  their 


l^ictor  B.  messier. 


many  short-comings  as  hosts — have  all  become, 
and  are  more  so  by  his  death,  hallowed  in  Ger- 
man literature.  It  is  the  custom  of  the  German 
artists  in  Rome,  under  the  leadership  of  their 
ambassador,  to  make  a  pilgrimage  annually  to 
this  locality,  and  spend  a  day  in  feasting  and 
toasting  in  honor  of  the  revered  poet,  who  has 
sung  songs  of  Italy  that  will  live  as  long  as  the 
German  language  is  spoken.  On  such  occasions 
selections  from  his  poems  are  always  read,  and 
never  was  the  pilgrimage  made  without  sending 
to  the  home  of  Scheffel,  in  Germany,  a  tele- 
gram that  told  him  how  warm  were  the  hearts 
that  gathered  under  the  giant  oaks,  which  his 
pen  had  not  only  invested  with  the  halo  of 
sentiment,  but  had  alike  saved  from  the  wood- 
man's destructive  axe.     "The  Trumpeter  of 

Sackingen "  was  writ- 
ten in  one  of  the  quaint 
arched  rooms  of  the 
Hotel  Pagano,  on  the 
Island  of  Capri,  which 
has  also  become  a  mag- 
netic spot  for  this  and 
other  reasons  to  the 
German  artist  who  vis- 
its Italy.  The  memory 
of  the  event  is  preserved 
in  the  image  of  the  he- 
ro's cat  "  Hiddigeigei," 
which  has  been  painted 
by  some  kindly  knight 
of  the  brush  on  a  lofty 
dormer  window  in  a  ste- 
reoscopic manner  as  re- 
lieved by  the  light  from 
without." 

Since  Victor  von 
Scheffel  must  be  consi- 
dered the  librettist  of 
the  present  opera,  in 
which  several  of  his  own 
songs  are  incorporated, 
a  sketch  of  his  life  in  so 
far  as  it  relates  to  ' '  The 
Trumpeter  of  Sacking- 
en "  will  be  of  interest. 
Joseph  Scheffel  (the  Victor  he  seems  to  have 
adopted;  the  Von  he  later  gained  in  honor)  was 
born  in  Carlsruhe  on  the  i6th  of  February-, 
1826,  the  son  of  a  major  in  the  service  of  the 
Grand  Duke  of  Baden.  He  attended  the  Gym- 
nasium at  his  native  city,  and  tliough  he  had  a 
deep  desire  to  become  an  artist,  he  gave  way  to 
the  wishes  of  his  father  who  wanted  him  to  pre- 
pare himself  for  the  service  of  his  native  state. 
Accordingly,  in  1S43,  he  went  to  Munich,  where, 
however,  pictures  interested  him  more  than 
jurisprudence;  then  to  Heidelberg,  where  con- 
vivial life  was  equally  prejudicial  to  earnest 
study;  and  finally  to  Berlin,  where  he  progressed 
so  rapidly  that  in  1847  he  was  able  to  pass  his 
examination  of  Heidelberg  and  to  receive  his 
diploma  as  doctor  of  laws.  That  his  heart  was 
not  true  to  law  was  evident  all  the  time;  but  he 
stuck  to  it  as  a  duty  nevertheless.  In  Heidel- 
berg he  also  studied  Germanistic  and  the  his- 


ui 


THE   POET   AND    THE    COMPOSER. 


tory  of  Literature,  especially  ancient  documents 
and  parchments,  the  songs  of  medieval  days  be- 
ing his  favorites.  It  was  a  study  not  much  in 
vogue  at  the  time.  In  the  same  year  that  Schef- 
fel  completed  his  studies  in  Heidelberg,  Gustav 
Freytag  had  to  leave  the  University  of  Breslau, 
where  he  was  privat-docent,  because  the  Faculty 
would  not  give  him  the  permission  to  deliver 
lectures  on  German  Kulturgeschichte — saying 
that  it  was  not  a  scientific  study.  It  was  in 
Heidelberg  that  Scheffel  first  revealed  poetic 
talent.  It  is  said  that  he  was  a  great  favorite 
with  the  students  at  the  time,  that  no  "  pocula  " 
was  considered  complete  without  him.  Yet  few 
of  his  "Gaudeamus"  songs  come  from  this 
period.  He  was  inclined  to  be  dreamy  and  sen- 
timental, and  the  famous  "  Es  hat  nicht  sollen 
sein!  "  is  a  production  of  his  student  years. 

After  receiving  his  diploma  Scheffel  obtained 
an  appointment  as  legal  administrator  at  the 
little  town  of  Sackingen 
on  the  Rhine,  and  fur- 
ther as  secretary  of 
the  Baden  high  court  of 
justice  in  Bruchsal.  Of 
his  residence  at  Sack- 
ingen he  has  told  the 
most  interesting  stories 
himself.  He  was  a 
dreamer,  and  though  he 
tried  conscientiously  to 
do  his  duty  as  a  well-ap- 
pointed official  of  the 
little  duchy,  his  thoughts 
were  far  away,  mostly  in 
Italy,  where  he  hoped 
to  eventually  complete 
his  artistic  studies.  But 
he  was  able  to  dream 
even  in  Sackingen, 
though  his  dreamings 
did  not  take  any  very  de- 
finite shape.  He  was 
mostly  attracted  to  the 
ancient  history  of  the 
little  town.    There  were 

two  incidents  or  stories  in  Sackingen's  history 
that  deeply  interested  him.  The  first  was  the 
story  of  its  founding  by  Fridolin  the  Traveller, 
or  Saint  Fridolin,  whose  memory  has  been  cele- 
brated for  centuries  in  Lorraine,  Alsace,  Ger- 
many and  Switzerland.  Fridolin  was  a  native  of 
Ireland,  and  Bruschius,  a  German  writer,  says 
he  was  the  son  of  an  Irish  king.  Having  em- 
braced the  priesthood  he  was  seized  with  a  de- 
sire for  preaching  and  spreading  the  gospel  in 
foreign  parts.  He  therefore  passed  over  to 
France,  became  a  member  of  St.  Hilary's  mon- 
astery at  Poietieres,  was  eventually  elected 
abbot,  and  became  the  intimate  friend  and  ad- 
viser of  King  Clovis.  But  his  love  of  mission- 
ary work  was  still  burning,  he  wandered  about 
the  eastern  part  of  France,  chiefly  in  Alsace  and 
Lorraine,  founded  monasteries  and  churches  in 
honor  of  St.  Hilary,  and  finally  determined  to 
convert  the  Allemans  on  the  Upper  Rhine  to 
Christianity.     Scheffel  has  given  a  description 


of  the  good  old  saint's  journey  from  Ireland  to 
the  court  of  King  Clovis,  his  work  on  the 
Rhine  and  on  the  island  of  Sackingen  (printed 
on  p.  9  of  the  libretto). 

Saint  Fridolin  died  on  the  island  of  Sack- 
ingen on  the  6th  of  March.  It  is  believed  that 
the  year  of  his  death  was  A.  D  725.  The  an- 
niversary of  the  Saint's  death  is  still  honored 
every  year  in  the  little  city  by  a  solemn  proces- 
sion and  religious  ceremonies. 

Another  point  of  interest  in  Sackingen  to 
Scheffel  was  a  grave  stone  in  the  church-yard 
on  which  was  inscribed  the  names  of  Francis 
Werner  Kirchhofer  and  Maria  Ursula  de  Schon- 
au,  who,  as  it  is  writ  on  the  memorial,  died 
within  a  year  of  one  another.  In  the  musty 
archives  of  the  little  town  Scheffel  found  the 
story  relating^  to  that  head-stone — and  from  it 
arose  at  that  time  in  his  mind  the  picture  of  the 
lovely  blonde  Fraulein  who  so  long  before  had 

dwelt  there  in  the  old 
castle,  and  of  the  hand- 
some wandering  Spiel- 
mann  who  had  taken  the 
young  girl's  heart  by 
storm.  Young  Scheffel 
took  more  interest  in 
reading  about  Saint  Fri- 
dolin and  Young  Wer- 
ner and  his  love  than 
in  doling  out  law.  The 
past  and  the  future  only 
were  beautiful  to  him; 
the  present  had  for 
him  no  charms,  at  least 
not  when  connected 
with  jurisprudence.  His 
father  dying  left  him 
comparatively  well-to- 
do  in  the  world,  and  he 
determined  to  leave  the 
law  and  justice  and  to 
devote  himself  thence- 
.~   '  -  forth  to  Art — and  for  that 

purpose  to  seek  inspir- 
ation in  Italy.  In  April, 
1852,  he  left  the  Rhine  for  the  land  of  his  dream- 
ing, and  there  he  remained  until  May,  1853,  re- 
gretting much  that  he  had  lived  so  many  years 
in  vain.  But  even  there  the  Present  had  no 
charms  for  him.  In  Italy  the  memories  gather- 
ed in  Germany  of  the  Past  crystallized  and  grew 
into  delightful  poetry. 

The  year  that  Scheffel  spent  in  Italy,  from 
April,  1S52,  to  May,  1853,  was  a  memorable 
one.  The  artist  and  art  historian  Edward  von 
Engerth,  the  director  of  the  Belvedere  at  Vien- 
na, went  to  Italy  in  the  fall  of  1^51,  on  his  wed- 
ding trip,  with  his  beautiful  young  bride.  In 
Rome  they  gathered  around  them  all  the  Ger- 
man artists  and  celebrities  in  the  city.  In  the 
following  spring  they  went  to  Albano,  the  sum= 
mering  place  of  many  of  the  German  art  colony. 
Among  the  latter  were  the  archaeologist  Braun, 
the  artist-poet  HoUpein,  the  Berlin  painter 
Schlegel,  and  among  the  ladies,  Hofdame  Frl. 
von  Schulte,  of  Hanover;  the  beautiful   Frau 


IV 


THE    POET    AND    THE    COMPOSER. 


Malvine  von  Backhausen,  of  North  Germany, 
and  the  artiste  AmaUa  Bensinger,  of  Swabia. 
In  May,  1852,  the  circle  received  an  addition  in 
two  new  arrivals  from  Germany,  the  one  a  tall, 
straight,  handsome  man  with  full  blonde  beard 
and  hair— he  was  the  landscape  painter  Willers, 
of  Oldenburg;  the  other,  a  young,  medium- 
sized  man  with  beardless  face,  fine,  intelligent 
features — ^Joseph  Scheffel,  Willers'  pupil.  The 
latter,  says  Engerth,  made  an  immediate  and 
favorable  impression  upon  everybody,  though 
he  was  taciturn  and  reserved.  This,  however, 
came  from  his  own  regrets  at  beginning  his 
artistic  career  so  late  in  life.  He  was  twenty- 
six  and  had  only  just  commenced  to  draw 
from  nature,  and  brush  and  palette  were  yet 
a  long  way  ahead.  ' '  We  said  one  to  the 
other,  what  a  pity  tliat  such  a  remarkably 
talented  man  should  dream    only   of  being   a 


ful  Margaretha  had  been  gradually  taking  on 
life,  and  finally  he  packed  up  his  sketches 
and,  leaving  Rome,  sought  seclusion  on  the 
rocky  island  of  Capri.  There,  lodging  in  the 
inn  kept  by  Don  Pagano,  a  personage  well 
known  to  all  German  artists  at  the  time,  Schef- 
fel wrote  within  six  weeks  his  poem  of  "Der 
Trompeter  von  Sakkingen,"  with  its  beautiful 
pictures  of  medieval  life  and  its  quaint  philoso- 
phy and  its  love  story  that  have  charmed  two 
generations  of  Germans,  and  which,  in  operatic 
shape,  is  now  presented  to  the  American  pub- 
lic. With  the  "Trompeter"  in  manuscript 
Schefiel  left  Capri  and  hastened  to  Sorrento, 
where  his  friend  Paul  Heyse  was  expecting  him 
to  hear  the  first  reading  of  his  completed 
poem. 

The  "  Trompeter  von  Sakkingen  "  was  pub- 
lished in   Germany  in  the  following  autumn 


IbeiDelbcrg  at  tbe  present  time. 


landscape  painter."  This  expression  was 
evoked  by  his  gift  of  poetic  story-telling  in 
the  circle  of  his  summer  friends  at  Al- 
bano. 

Engerth  says:  "When  we  sat  at  dinner  or 
supper  and  he  told  us  some  story  of  his  home, 
described  any  curious  figure  or  event  from  his 
student  days  or  his  court-practice,  we  had  to 
wonder  how  artistically  he  composed  his  pic- 
ture. Whenever  he  related  anything  which 
we  had  seen  or  experienced  ourselves — a 
meeting  with  a  beggar  or  a  herdsman  on  the 
Campagna,  or  an  excursion  to  the  mountains, 
the  most  simple  thing  left  his  lips  poetic,  at- 
tractive, beautiful."  On  hearing  one  .such  story 
Frau  von  Engerth  exclaimed:  "Why,  lieber 
Scheffel,  why  waste  your  time  with  painting  ? 
You  ought  to  be  a  poet.''  In  fact,  Scheffel's 
heart  had  been  long  busy  with  poetic  dreams: 
the  figures  of  Young  Werner  and  the  beauti- 


(1853).  Strange  to  say,  in  view  of  its  present 
popularity,  it  remained  for  some  years  almost 
unnoticed,  and  the  critics  who  now  hail  it  as 
one  of  the  most  charming  poetic  works  of  mod- 
ern German  literature,  treated  it  with  severe 
coldness.  It  appeared  at  an  unfortunate  liter- 
ary era,  and  its  quaint  humor,  its  quainter  phil- 
osophy, its  refreshing  naturalness  only  gradu- 
ally won  their  way.  first  through  a  small  circle 
of  friends,  against  the  prevailing  sad-senti- 
mental tendencies  of  Redwitz's  "Amaranth." 
"  Scheffel  was,"  says  a  recent  biographer,  "  the 
only  true  humorist  in  a  period  that  had  almost 
forgotten  how  to  laugh.  But  gradually  it  won 
its  way,  edition  after  edition  was  called  for,  and 
a  perfect  cultus  was  carried  on  with  it,  in  which 
German  Jungfrauen  took  the  role  of  priest- 
esses." Scheffel  himself,  in  one  of  his  many 
prefaces  to  new  editions,  has  perhaps  given  the 
best  picture  of  its  reception: — 


THE    POET    AND    THE    COMPOSER. 


Five  years  have  passed  since  thou,   0  Joyous  song. 
Went  f 07-th  as  book  sent  out  to  ??ieet  thy  fate; 

As  simple   Trumpeter  to  charm  the  throng: 
Biit  forttine  smiled  not  on  thee  all  too  great; 

The  narrow  guilds  of  cold   intelligences 
Were  not  toward  thee  f'iendly  itzclined; 

Where  form  and  numbers  rule  the  warmer  senses, 
Is  no  good  place  for  thee  or  for  thy  kind: — 

And  from  the  heights  of  bellied  crinoline 

Shedded  on  thee  has  little  favor  been. 

What  suits  one  suits  not  all.     On  mountain   side 

Grow  different  Jlowers  from  those  in  the  vale; 
But  hei'e  and  there  where  German  folk  abide. 
Didst  fnd  a  heart  that  bid  the  singer  hail! 


And  seated  at  the  rotind  convivial  table. 

Exchanging  stories  and  brave  memories  old, 

To  learn  from  many  a  witness  J  was  able 
Of  what  more  joy  to  poets  gives  than  gold:~ 

The  Bugler  of  whose  ??iemory  I  had  sung. 

Was  cherished  in  the  heart  of  old  and  young. 

*  *  *  * 

After  leaving  Italy  Scheftel  settled  in  Heidel- 
berg for  a  number  of  years,  to  prepare  himself 
for  a  professorship.  But  an  eye  trouble  pre- 
vented him  from  following  his  intentions.  He 
then  took  more  kindly  to  the  convivial  life  of 
Heidelberg  than  in  former  years,  and  for  a  club 


of  good  fellows,  styled  the 


Engeren, 


which. 


$acftinc}en  in  1650. 


Where  joyous  brothers,   to  the  gold-wine  bidden 
Gave  mirth  in  song  thou  too  wert  ofteii  found; 

In  good  old  huntef-'s  ga77ie-bags  oft  wert  hidden. 
And  landscape paititers  sometimes  had  thee  'round: 

A  nd  pastors,  too,  the  ancient  legettds  say. 

As  forest  prayer-book  read  thee  oil  the  zuay. 

By  many  who  a  fair  young  bride  had  married. 

And  tvith  her  journey' d  in  the  zvorld  alone, 
Wert  thou  as  gift  and  pastime  often  carried — 

For  two  can  read  thee  quite  as  well  as  one. 
And  Sackingen,  the  Forest    City  7uorthy, 

That  was  not  all  too  pleaskd  at  the  start, 
In  time  fotmd,  too,  a  good  affection  for  thee. 

And,  touched  at  last,  just  took  thee  to  its  heart: — 
And  all  in  all,  in  good  and  evil  ways. 
Hast  in  the  world  had  perfect  joyous  days. 


used  to  meet  every  Wednesday  evening,  to 
which  men  like  Von  Rockau,  the  publicist,  and 
the  historian  Ludwig  Hiiusser  belonged,  he 
wrote  most  of  his  student  songs,  in  which  he 
gave  free  reins  to  his  quaint  humor.  Thest 
were  published  in  1868  under  the  title  of  "Gau- 
deamus,"  a  few  of  which  have  been  rendered 
into  English  by  Hans  Breitman  But  he  did 
not  neglect  more  serious  work.  From  this  period 
comes  the  romance  "Ekkehard,"  the  most  im- 
portant work  by  the  poet,  the  inspiration  to 
which  he  found  in  Pertz'  "  Monumenta  Ger- 
manise." Afterwards  he  made  a  second  journey 
to  Italy,  lived  then  for  a  time  in  Munich,  then 
as  librarian  of  Prince  Egon  von  Fiirstenberg 
in   Donauchlingen  until    the  Grand  Duke  of 


Saxe-Weimar  invited 


him  to  sing 


of  the  glory 


VI 


THE   POET    AND    THE    COMPOSER. 


of  the  Wartburg,  as  he  had  done  for  Hohen- 
twiel  in  his  "Ekkehard."  Scheftel  then  went 
to  Eisenach,  studied  the  history  of  the  Minne- 
singers and  produced  "  Frau  Aventiure,  Songs 
from  the  Time  of  Heinrich  von  Ofterdingen." 
But  the  old  inspiration  for  his  work  failed  him 
in  this,  as  later  in  "Juniperus,"  and  his  "  Berg- 
psalmen," — hymns,  descriptive  of  the  Alps. 
Returning  to  South  Germany,  he  lived  thence- 
forth in  Karlsruhe,  and  in  summer  at  his  villa, 
near  Rudolfszell,  on  Lake  Constance.  In  1876 
his  fiftieth  birthday  was  celebrated  with  great 
festivities,  and  the  Grand  Duke  of  Baden  ele- 
vated him  to  the  hereditary  nobility.  He  wrote 
but  little  in  his  later  years,  but  he  sought  enjoy- 
ment amid  the  brilliant  circle  of  people,  who 
had  settled  in  the  Baden  capital.  Among  these 
were  Von  Werner,  who  was  then  studying 
painting,  with  Adolph  Schroedter,   his  future 


stadt.  He  learnt  the  elements  of  music  in  his 
home  At  fourteen  he  attended  the  Gymnasium 
at  Strassburg,  and  after  passing  his  baccalau- 
reate examination,  devoted  himself  to  theology. 
But  he  always  had  a  decided  taste  for  music; 
he  took  instruction  in  theory,  and  then  com- 
posed pieces  of  religious  character,  among 
which  were  the  125th,  126th  and  137th  Psalm, 
and  a  grand  mass  for  male  voices,  all  to  the 
great  regret  of  his  father.  An  accident  gave 
lasting  tendency  to  Nessler's  musical  studies 
and  in  1864  he  had  to  give  up  theology 
altogether.  It  came  about  in  this  way:  Ness- 
ler's friend  and  fellow-theological  student, 
Edmund  Febrel,  wrote  an  opera-text,  entitled 
"  Fleurette  "  (the  first  love  of  Henry  IV),  and 
he  had  composed  the  music  to  it.  The  opera 
was  accepted  for  performance  at  the  Strassburg 
City  Theatre,  and  the  names  of  the  two  young 


SaclRingen  in  1850. 


father-in-law;  Malvina  Schroedter,  who  was 
dividing  her  time  between  poetry  and  flower- 
painting;  Lessing,  who  had  recovered  from  the 
shock,  his  brother-in-law,  Adolph  Schroedter, 
had  inflicted  in  the  Romantic  School  at  Frank- 
furt in  1848;  and  Marien  Crawford,  who  was  then 
a  student  at  the  Polytechnik,  then  recovering 
from  the  effects  of  having  slept  in  a  room  leaving 
the  gas  turned  on.  The  Griifin  Fleming,  the 
eccentric  grand- daughter  of  the  eccentric  Bet- 
tina  von  Arnim,  acted  as  the  go  between  'twixt 
Court  and  Bohemia.  Carlsruhe  was  a  little 
Weimar  in  those  days— a  Weimar  without  a 
Gothe  and  Schiller,  and  Victor  von  Scheffel 
was  its  brightest  literary  light. 

A  few  words  about  the  composer,  who  has 
been  able  to  make  a  successful  opera  out  ot 
Scheffel's  well-known  poem.  The  composer  is 
a  born  Alsatian,  Victor  Ernst  Nessler,  son  of 
Pfarrherr  Karl  Ferdinand  Nessler,  and  was  born 
January  28,  1841,  in  Baldenheim  near  Schlett- 


theologians  were  printed  in  large  letters  on  the 
play-bills.  The  "evil-doers"  were  cited  to 
appear  before  the  President  of  the  Directorium, 
and  compelled  on  account  of  their  ver>^  untheo- 
logical  work,  to  resign  from  the  theological 
faculty.  "Fleurette"  was  performed  for  the 
first  time  on  March  15,  1864,  and  achieved  a 
brilliant  success.  The  young  composer  then 
went  to  Leipsic,  where  he  completed  his  mu- 
sical studies  under  the  teaching  of  Bernsdorf 
and  Hauptmann,  and  the  advice  of  David,  Mo- 
scheles  and  Reinecke.  He  first  devoted  his 
attention  to  the  composition  of  choral  works; 
he  became  leader  of  a  number  of  Maenner- 
gesang-Societies  in  Leipsic  and  in  18S0  took 
the  direction  of  the  Leipsic  Saengerbund,  which 
embraces  eight  societies  of  singers.  Of  this  he 
is  still  honorary  conductor,  though  at  present 
he  resides  at  Strassburg.  In  1868  he  composed 
his  romantic  opera  "  Dornroschen's  Braut- 
fahrt "   (The  Sleeping  Beauty's  Bridal  Trip): 


vu 


THE   STORY   OF   THE    OPERA. 


then  followed  two  one-act  operas  entitled  "Am 
Alexanderstag,"  and  "The  Night-Watchman," 
which  were  accepted  by  Laube  for  the  Leipsic 
Opera  House.  In  1876  his  opera  "  Irmingard  " 
"was  produced  at  Leipsic.  In  1879  his  "  Rat- 
catcher of  Hameln  "  achieved  a  great  success 
and  made  the  name  of  the  composer  renowned. 
Then  he  wrote  "The  Wild  Huntsman,"  and 
last  "The  Bugler  of  Sackingen,"  one  of  the 
greatest  successes  of  modern  times  on  the 
German  operatic  stage.  Schefifel  had  never 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  his  hero  in  opera.  He 
has  placed  on  record  the  fact,  however,  that  he 
saw  him  playing  his  brief  hour  on  the  dramatic 
stage.  Had  he  seen  him  in  Nessler's  setting, 
he  might  perchance  have  given  us  still  another 


preface  beyond  that  in  which  he  tells  how  he 
had  seen  him  pictured  as  the  title  of  the  weekly 
paper  of  Sackingen,  and  sinned  against  on  the 
boards: — 

Vignetted  on  the  weekly  paper'  proudly 
He  stands,  and  wisdom  'stead  ofimisic  blows. 
Nay.  on  the  stage  has  often  all  too  loudly 
As  hero  ranted — ask  not  how  it  goes. 
If  in  the  tower,  where  for  many  ages, 
Below  the  castle  walls  the  old  one  stood. 
Were  frescoed  all  the  Song's  dear  personages 
With  gf  eater  skill  than  Fhidribus  e'  er  could — 
In  truth  the  artist' s  hand  could  soon  assziage 
The  grief  cans' gi  (>y  the  ^itirier^  of  the  stage. 


(TOb  Storq  of  tfje  Upera. 


Nessler's  opera  follows  in  the  main  Schefifel's 
poetic  story  of  "The  Trumpeter  of  Sackingen," 
a  short  description  of  parts  of  which  will  assist 
to  a  more  perfect  appreciation  of  the  work  01 
composer  and  librettist. 

The  hero  is  Werner  Kirchhof  He  is  a  hand- 
some young  fellow  who  is  expelled  from  Hei- 
delberg University  for  conduct  unbecoming 
and  singing,  in  a  manner  unbeseening,  a  song 
under  the  windows  of  the  English  Princess  up 
at  the  castle.  But  for  its  medieval  tone  the 
second  chapter  of  The  "  Trumpeter "  would 
perhaps  describe  Scheffel's  own  life  at  the 
famous  institution  of  learning  at  the  Neckar. 
There  Werner  studied  jurisprudence,  read  and 
lamented  over  Roman  law,  but  failed  to  bring 
his  mind  earnestly  down  to  work.  Instead  01 
studying,  he  could  only  see  in  the  Corpus 
Juris  a  dark-haired  beauty — "stern  Eujacius' 
beautiful  daughter  who  once  upon  a  time 
read  lectures  from  her  father's  catheder  at 
Paris  to  the  fortunate  youth  of  Paris,"  smilmg 
out  upon  him  from  the  musty  pages.  His  in- 
dustry was  without  fruit :  the  Corpus  Juris — a 
beautiful  Elzevir  edition,  was  placed  for  safe- 
keeping in  the  hands  of  Levi  Ben  Machol,  who 
paid  two  doubloons  for  the  favor,  and  young 
Werner  became  a  rollicking,  spur-clanking, 
duel-fighting,  wine-drinking  Bursche,  who 
spent  much  of  his  time  drinking  and  talking 
philosophy  with  Perkeo,  the  dwarf  guardian  01 
Heidelberg's  great  tun.  Thus  he  tells  to  the 
Schwarzwald  pastor  the  story  of  how  he  came 
to  serenade  the  English  Princess  and  get  into 
serious  trouble : 

0  Pcrkeol  Better  surely 
Had  it  been  if  I  had  never 

Lejit  mine  ear  unto  thy  wisdom; — 
'  Twas  a  cold,  bright  winter -morniftg — 
In  the  dark  and  musty  cellar, 
With  the  dwarf  had  held  much  converse 
Philosophic  o' er  the  wirie-jug — 
But  when  tip,  into  the  sunshine 

1  stepp'dforth,  the  zvorld  appear' d  to 

Me  quite  chattged  arid  strange  and  curious; 


All  around  seemed  rosy  tinted; 
Thought  I  heard  sweet  angels  singing; — 
O71  the  castle  terrace  surely 
Saw  a  group  of  noble  ladies, 
Iti  their  midst  the  gracious  Princess, 
The  Electress  Leonora — 
Thither  flew  my  saucy  fancies; — 
Dazzled  were  my  brain  and  senses; 
Taken  wing  my  wit  and  wisdom; 
Languishing,  towards  the  terrace 
Strode,  to  where  she  stood  in  glory. 
And  began  the  franctic  measure. 
That  once  on  a  time  Elector 
Fred'rick  sang,  in  love-sick  fashion. 
To  his  bride,  the  English  Princessl 

He  sang  her  the  song  :  "As  truest  of  vassals 
I  kneel  at  thy  feet,"  which  is  sung  by  the 
students  in  the  first  act  of  the  opera.  Young 
Werner  accompanying  on  his  bugle.  Because 
of  this  impertinence  and  insult  to  majesty, 
Werner  was  rudely  wakened  from  his  dreams. 
The  staid  old  beadle  summoned  him  before  the 
Rector,  who  wrathfully  announced  his  sen- 
tence, which  was  expulsion  from  the  university 
and  banishment  from  the  city.  So  he  set  out, 
a  light-hearted  cavalier,  and  rode  away  down 
the  valley  of  the  Neckar,  with  only  his  bugle, 
with  which  he  hoped  to  win  fortune  and  ad- 
ventures, as  companion.  It  is  then  that  Scheffel 
introduces  his  readers  to  the  young  rider  pass- 
ing through  the  snow-storm  in  the  Black  Forest, 
and  finally  finds  him  shelter  in  the  house  of  a 
Schwarzwald  Pfarrherr,  to  whom  he  relates  his 
adventures.  The  Pfarrherr,  after  listening  to 
him,  giving  him  wise  counsel  and  a  good  meal, 
advices  him  to  proceed  next  morning  to  Sack- 
ingen on  the  Rhine,  a  place  where  he  is  likely 
to  find  service,  the  more  so  as  the  day  is  the 
f^te  day  of  St.  Fridoline,  the  patron  of  young 
people: — 

'^' Laughingly  the  aged  Pfarrherr 
Rais'd  his  glass  and,  laiighing,  spake: — 
Thank  you7'  stars  that  thus  it  erided: 
For  IJznow  a  different  story. 


vni 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    OPERA. 


All  about  a  wild  young  fellow 
And  a  very  fair  Margravine 
And  a7i  ugly  lookitig  gallows. 
Good  advice  is  hard  to  give,  and 
Such  a  case  has  not  been  noted. 
What  071  earth  to  say  to  such  as 
Sitig  and  play  to  noble  ladies. 
Legal  wisdom  take  to  pawnshops. 
And  with  bugle  blowiyig  hope  to 
Find  the  future  fair  before  them! 
i'ut  when  human  wits' s  exhajisted, 
Aid  is  often  sent  from  heave?!. — 
Down  there  in  the  forest  tow/i  of 
Sackittgett  they  have  a  kindly 
Patron  saint  for yotinger  people — 
Good  Saint  Fridoline—  To-morrow 
Is  the  worthy  mati' s  great  Jete-day: 
He  hath  never  left  unaided 
Those  who  asked  his  help  in  need; 
Turn  thee  then  to  Fridoline! 


In  the  operatic  version  of 
the  story  Werner  carouses 
with  the  students,  and  with 
them  is  banished  from  the 
University.  All  then  join 
a  body  of  troopers,  who  are 
passing  through  the  city  on 
their  way  south,  and  thus 
reach  Sackingen.  The  pe- 
riod in  which  the  action  of 
the  prelude  falls  is  given 
as  towards  the  close  of  the 
Thirty  Years  War.  Heidel- 
berg Castle  was  still  in  its 
glory,  though  it  had  suf- 
fered injury  during  the  long 
struggles  from  i6i8to  1648. 
It  owed  much  of  its  beauty 
to  Frederick  V.,  who  be- 
came Prince  Elector  in 
1614.  Light-hearted,  with 
a  prosperous  land  and  con- 
tented people,  he  was  uni- 
ted in  marriage  with  Elisa- 
beth, the  beautiful  daughter 
of  James  I.  of  England  and 
grand-daughter  of  Mary, 
Queen  of  Scots.  For  her 
he  built  a  portion  of  the 
castle,  called  the  English 
Bau,  of  which  only  the  shell 
now  remains.  He  trans- 
formed the  old  fortifica- 
tions into  beautiful  gar- 
dens, about  which  De  Cans 
wrote  in  ecstatic  praise, 
and  Fonquieres,  the  great 
Flemish  painter,  made  a 
picture  of  it,  which  was  en- 
graved by  Merian  in  1620. 
Frederick  was  deeply  in 
love  with  his  wife,  and 
there  still  stands  at  the  en- 
trance to  the  gardens  the 
triumphal  arch,  with  the 
affectionate  dedication : 
'^Fredericus  V.  Elizabethcc 


IPerkco. 


Coningi  Cariss  A.  C.  MDCXV;'  testifying  to 
the  Elector's  devotion.  But  she  was  am- 
bitious, and  it  was  at  her  instance  that  Fre- 
derick accepted  the  crown  of  Bohemia,  because 
the  historians  say,  "she  was  perpetually  re- 
peating to  him  that  she  had  rather  starve  with 
a  crown  on  her  head,  than  live  in  luxury  under 
an  Elector's  hat." 

.So  it  came  to  pass  on  November  4,  1619,  that 
Frederick  rode  forth  from  Heidelberg,  to  take 
the  proferred  crown.  But  he  never  returned  to 
the  castle  of  his  fathers.  His  kingly  reign  was 
brief.  On  the  8th  of  November,  1620,  the  Bo- 
hemians, who  had  entrenched  themselves  on 
the  White  Mountains,  were  attacked  and  routed 
by  the  united  Imperial  and  Bavarian  force, 
under  the  Duke  of  Bavaria  and  Count  Tilly, 
and  Frederick  and  his  wife  fled  for  safety  to 
Holland  As  he  had  only  reigned  one  winter, 
he  was  derisively  called  the  Winter  King. 
When  peace  returned,  the 
Palatinate,  "the  garden  of 
Germany,"  had  been  turn- 
ed into  a  howling  waste. 
In  1649,  Carl  Ludwig,  son 
of  the  Winter  King  and 
nephew  of  the  beheaded 
English  King,  returned  to 
Heidelberg,  after  a  life- 
time of  banishment.  The 
castle  was  so  desolated 
that,  it  is  said,  he  could 
hardly  find  decent  lodging 
within  its  once  stately  walls. 
The  University,  a  Pro- 
testant Institution,  which 
during  the  war  had  sunk 
completel}^  crippled,  was 
now  revived,  Spinoza  and 
others  being  invited  to  fill 
the  long  vacant  professor- 
ships. It  is  in  this  period 
that  the  operatic  story  falls. 
It  was  not  till  1688,  that 
Louis  XIV.  issued  his  fam- 
ous order  '  ^Brulez  la  Pala- 
tinat. ' '  Perkeo,  the  dwarf, 
who  was  indirectly  the 
cause  of  Werner's  leaving 
Heidelberg,  lived  in  the  be- 
ginning of  the  eighteenth 
century,  and  was  Karl  Phi- 
lipp's  court  fool  He  was 
a  true  hero  in  the  vineyard 
of  the  lord  and  was  accus- 
tomed to  get  away  with  fif- 
teen bottles  of  wine  daily. 
So  much  for  history — as 
prelude  to  the  opera. 

Act  I.  —  Young  Wer- 
ner's sojourn  in  Sackingen 
proves  very  fortunate  for 
him.  While  watching  the 
people  coming  in  boats  on 
tiie  Rhine,  to  take  part  on 
the  Saint's  fete  day,  he  is 
able  to  protect  Margare- 
tha   (called  Maria  in   the 


IX 


THE    STORY   OF   THE    OPERA, 


opera)  and  his  aunt,  the  Countess,  from  the 
rudeness  of  the  Hauenstein  peasants,  who  are 
in  a  mood  for  rebeUion  against  the  Baron  von 
Schoenau.  The  act  closes  with  the  annual  St. 
Fridolin's  procession,  on  the  6th  of  March. 
In  Scheffel's  poem  Young  Werner  arrives  at 
Sackingen  just  in  time  to  witness  the  fete,  and 
to  see  the  lovely  Marga- 
retha  walking  in  de- 
mure loveliness  in  the 
ranks  of  the  white  clad 
maidens  of  the  fresh 
lily,  and  to  fall  in  love 
with  her.  Of  her  love- 
liness Werner  dreamt 
all  day  and  at  night 
he  wandered  along  the 
banks  of  the  Rhine,  in 
dreaming  mood,  like  as 
ages  before  another 
bugler  "who  the  day 
of  judgment's  thrilling 
trumpet-call  outblasted 
through  the  lazy  roll  of 
ages,"  had  done,  on  the 
banks  of  the  Arno: 


IbiODlaeioei. 


And  so,  too,  when  many  thousand. 
Thousand  years  shall  have  been  counted. 
Others ,  filled  ivith  love's  exulting 
Grandeur ,  shall  the  same  path  follow! 
And  zvhen  on  the  Rhine  the  last  lone 
Relic  of  the  race  Germanic 
Shall  have  fotind  his  7-est  e' erlastittg. 
Then  shall  others  folloiv  after 
Dreaming  these  same  dreams  enchanting. 
Talking  in  sweet  words  together, 
Though  in  new  and  stranger  language. 
Know  ye  zvho  this  coming  folk  is? 
Almond-eyed,  with  noses  fatten  d. 
They  whose  sires  to-day  are  dwelling 
On  the  Aral  and  the  Irtisch, 
Dreaming  as  they  drink  their  koumiss. 
Of  their  future  power  and  glory  ? 

Youthful  love,  0  pearl  tnost  precious. 
Balsam  sweet  for  Jutman  sorrow. 
Of  life's  ship  the  saving  anchor, 
Ever-green  in  dreary  deserts. — 
How  can  I,  a  weary  mortal, 
Sing  in  new  and  worthy  strains  of 
All  thy  blest  terrestrial  glories  ? 
Filled  with  meekness  and  with  thanks  I 
Can  but  think  of  thy  szveet  magic; 
Of  thy  halo,  that  with  goldeji 
Glory  shines  upon  the  jjiurky 
Mists  of  youth,  revealing  clearly. 
Sharply,  life  spread  out  before  us: — 
Gentle  longings,  proud  ambitions. 
Earnest  thought  and  bold  endeavor. 
All  we  oive  to  Love's  inspiring. 
Happy  they,  then,  in  whose  bosom 
Love  has  held  tritimphant  entry. 


Young  Werner, 


wandering  along  the 


river, 
is   addressed    by  Father    Rhine,    who  advises 
him,  after  a  quaint  lecture,  to  get  into  a  boat 
and  he   will   carry  him  nearer  the  object    of 
Werner  follows  the  river  god's 


his  dreaming 


advice  and  lets  the  boat  drift  down  the  stream 
until  he  reaches  a  sand-bank  opposite  the  castle. 
There  he  lands,  and  seeing  a  lighted  window  in 
the  .Schloss,  begins  to  serenade  the  unknown 
beauty  he  had  seen  in  the  procession.  Down  be- 
low old  Father  Rhine  listens  to  the  melodious 
strains;  listen  too,  pike  and  salmon  trout  and 

water  nymph,  and  the 
northwind  bears  the  mu- 
sic conscientiously  up  to 
the  lordly  castle.  Within 
the  room,  the  old  Baron 
himself  is  seated,  drink- 
ing his  night- cap,  smok- 
ing, but  bemoaning  the 
gout,  a  legacy  from  his 
war  days,  that  troubled 
him  at  times  seriously. 
(This  is  the  first  scene, 
slightly  changed,  at  the 
opening  of  the  second 
act  of  the  opera.)  At 
his  feet  lies  stretched 
the  famous  cat  Hiddi- 
geigei,  whose  quaint  phi- 
losophical reflections  are 
a  charming  feature  of 
SchefTel's  poem.  Then  enters  Margaretha,  a 
delightful  creature  of  Scheffel's  poetic  fancy: 

In  the  room  ca77ie,  stepping  lightly. 
Then  the  Baron's  charming  daughter 
Margaretha,  and  her  father 
Nodded,  smiling,  as  she  entered : 
She  had  changed  her  robe  of  velvet 
For  a  dress  of  snowy  whiteness. 
In  her  long  blonde  locks  was  fasten' d 
Saucily  the  hooded  head-dress. 
And  house-motherly  beneath  it 
Glanc'd  out  free  her  eyes  of  azztre; 
From  her  girdle  hutig  a  weighty 
Bunch  of  keys  and  leathern  pocket. 
Symbols  of  the  house's  mistress  : 
And  she  kiss'd  the  Bar-on' s  brow  and 
Spake  :  ^'' Dear  father,  be  not  angry. 
That  I  left  you  all  so  lonely — 
In  the  Cloister  long  the  gracious 
Princess-Abbess  kept  me  chatting. 
Told  me  many  charming  stories. 
Spake  quite  learnedly  of  age  and 
Of  the  teeth  of  time  :  and  then  the 
Knight-Co7nmander — he  of  Beuggert, 
Spake  f till  sweet ,  as  if  he' d  bought  his 
Words  doiun  at  the  sugar-bake7-s — 
/  ivas  glad  2uhetz  I  could  leave  thei7t. 
Waitijtg  your  coi7imand,  dear  father, 
A  771  p-repared  to  read  a  chapter 
From  otir  dear  old  Minttesinger 
Theue7 da7tk  :  I  knozu  you're  fondet 
Of  adve7i  tu7-es  a7id  of  curious 
IIu7tti7ig  stories  then  the  sweetly 
Se7i  ti/n  net  a  I  pastoral  poetry 
Of  our  tnoder7t  versifiers. 
But,  dear  father,  why  then  always 
Must  you  smoke  this  vile  and  w?  etc/id 
Pois' 710US  weed  you  call  tobacco  ? 
I'm  quite  frighte7ied  when  I  see  you 
' Mid  your  smoky  clouds  all  hidden. 


THE   STORY   OF   THE   OPERA. 


Ibd&clbcrg  Caetle  in  1620. 

Trcm  the  Centtiry  Magazine-') 


THE    STORY    OF   THE    OPERA. 


Like  the  Eggberg  in  the  rain-mist. 
And  Fm  sorry  for  the  gilded 
Picture  frafues  upon  the  panels. 
And  the  handsome  snow-white  curtains. 
Near  you  not  their  soft  remonstrance — 
How  the  blasts  from  your  big  pipe  will 
Make  them  pale  and  grey  and  rusty? 
It  may  be  a  land  most  wondrous. 
This  Afnerica — discovered 
By  the  worthy  Spanish  seaman j 
And  I,  too,  have  much  enjoyment 
In  the  gaudy  plumaged parrots. 
And  the putple  strings  of  coral; 
Dream  at  times  about  the  lofty 
Palm-tree  forests,  gorgeous  flowers. 
Cocoa-nuts  and  bad  wild  monkeys  : 
Though  I  sometimes  wish  it  still  were 
Undiscovered  in  the  ocean, 
yust  because  of  this  obnoxious 
Smoke-weed  that  it  sent  to  plagtie  us  : 
Willingly  wotild  I  forgive  the 
Alan  who  takes  far  more  thait  need f  til 
From  his  cup:  in  case  of  need  wotild 
Bring  myself  to  look  with  friendly 
Eyes  upon  a  nose  of  ruby — 
But  tobacco-smoking — never  !  " 

The  conversation  between  the  two  is  dehght- 
ful.     The  Baron  then  tells  Margaretha  how  he 


Castle  $cbonaii. 

first  learned  to  smoke;  how  as  a  prisoner  at 
Vincennes  he  and  his  fellow  captives  had  ac- 
quired the  habit  and  had  attained  such  perfec- 
tion in  it,  that  the  King  himself  came  to  "see 
the  smoking  Vesuviuses" ;  beautiful  court  ladies 
too,  and  among  them  the  proud  and  beauti- 
ful Leanor  Montfort  de  Plessys;  and  how  upon 
the  clouds  of  smoke  that  he  puffed,  Cupid  had 
sat  enthroned  and  merrily  shot  out  his  arrows, 
and  with  such  excellent  aim  that  to  the  proud 
beauty  "the  German  bear  appeared  finer  and 
nobler  than  all  the  great  lions  of  Paris."  He 
goes  on  further  to  say  how  wlien  he  was  re- 
leased from  prison  he  found  himself  more  cap- 
tive than  before,  and  how  he  remained  in  the 


bondage  of  Leanor  Montfort  de  Plessys'  charms 
until  lie  wedded  her  and  brought  her  home  to 
his  castle  on  the  Rhine.  Then  Rlargaretha, 
smiling  amid  her  tears,  kneels  before  him  and 
asks  his  forgiveness,  saying  that  in  future  not 
a  word  more  will  she  ever  speak  of  the  wicked- 
ness of  smoking.  It  is  then  that  the  Baron  is 
suddenly  startled  by  hearing  the  sound  of  Wer- 
ner's bugling  down  below  on  the  Rhine.  It 
reminds  him  of  the  blasts  blown  by  bugler  Rass- 
mann,  who  had  fallen  by  his  side  in  his  last 
campaign.  Next  morning  he  sends  out  his 
faithful  Anton  to  search  for  the  midnight  bugler. 
Werner  is  eventually  found,  taken  to  the  castle, 
where  the  Baron  succeeds  in  inducing  him  to 
stay  with  him  and  to  be  his  castle  bugler,  and  to 
lead  his  little  band  of  musicians.  And  so  Young 
Werner  finds  himself  installed  a  member  of  the 
Baron's  household.  In  the  opera  Young  Wer- 
ner is  introduced  in  a  somewhat  difterent  way. 
The  Baron  is  speaking  of  the  dangers  that 
threaten  the  castle  in  case  it  should  be  attacked 
by  the  rebellious  peasants,  and  how  he  regrets 
that  his  faithful  Rassmann  is  no  longer  alive  to 
summon  assistance  from  the  troopers  irt  the 
city  in  case  of  attack.  It  is  then  that  Marga- 
retha  tells  him  about  Young  Werner,  who  is 
also  a  bugler  and  the  end  is  that  he  is  induced  to 
accept  the  post  as  Rassmann's  successor  at  the 
castle,  and  as  well  to  assist  the  fair  Margaretha 
in  her  music.  The  result  is  evident;  but  in  the 
opening  scene  of  the  act  the  Baron  has  received 
a  letter  from  an  old  comrade  in  arms,  the  Count 
of  Wildenstein.  who  proposes  to  visit  the  Rhine 
with  his  son  Damian,  whom  he  would  like  to 
see  wedded  to  the  Baron's  fair  daughter,  Mar- 
garetha. 

Act  II. 

In  the  shady  castle-gat  dett 
Stand  some  grand  old  spreading  chestnuts. 
And  a  garden-house  invitin.:. 
'  Tis  a  snus;  and  still  retreat  this — 
All  around  a  screen  of  shade  trees, 
Down  belozv  the  water  murmurs. 

The  second  act  of  the  opera  embraces  some 
lovely  scenes,  which  are  suggested  rather  than 
taken  from  the  original  poem.  Several  of  the 
songs  are  Scheffel's,  however.  The  story  of 
Young  Werner's  life  at  the  baronial  castle  is 
contained  in  three  chapters  of  the  original  poem, 
in  delightful  pictures.  The  seventh  chapter  is 
devoted  to  a  description  of  a  picnic  at  the  moun- 
tain lake,  which  the  Baron  has  arranged  in  cele- 
bration of  May  Day.  The  great  song  of  this 
scene:  '' Es  kommt  ein  wimdersc hotter  Knab\'^ 
is  given  by  the  Chorus  in  the  opera,  in  the  last 
act,  as  "The  Coming  of  Prince  May,"  followed 
by  ballet  and  dance.  The  next  chapter  is  de- 
voted to  a  concert,  arranged  by  Margaretha, 
assisted  by  Werner,  in  honor  of  the  Baron's 
birth-day,  and  held  in  the  little  garden-house, 
that  has  been  fresco  painted  by  F'ludribus. 
The  next  chapter,  entitled  "Learning  and 
Loving,"  is  a  delicious  description  of  how  Mar- 
garetha finds  Werner's  bugle  in  the  summer 
"house,  and  how  she  is  discovered  by  the  young 


xu 


THE    STORY    OF   THE    OPERA. 


musician  while  she  is  endeavoring  to  evoke 
tones  from  the  gilded  instrument ;  further  how 
Werner  teaches  her  diligently,  and  composes 
songs  in  her  honor.  This  is  given  as  the  first 
scene  in  the  second  act  of  the  opera,  a  guitar, 
however,  taking  the  place  of  the  trumpet.  In  the 
poem  this  incident  is  preceded  by  the  story  of 
the  uprising  of  the  Hauenstein  peasants  (trans- 
ferred to  the  third  act  of  the  opera),  who  attack 
the  castle  ;  of  Werner's  bravery  in  leading  a 
sortie,  and  driving  back  the  hordes,  he  himself 


SS^T. 


Tlbe  (SarDen  Ibouec. 


being  severely  wounded;  and  Margaretha's  grief 
thereat.  Then  follows  another  charming 
chapter,  describing  Margaretha's  care  of  the 
wounded  man, — how  while  he  was  yet  uncon- 
scious, she  bent  over  him  to  see  if  he  still 
breathed,  how  her  lips  rested  sweetly  upon  his, 
and  how  after  this,  the  first  kiss,  she  fled  away 
in  trepidation  at  her  boldness;  how  later  Wer- 
ner recovered,  and  walking  in  the  garden,  meets 
Margaretha,  and  -  love  is  triumphant. 

JTiss  of  love,  thou  first  and  sweetest. 
Thee  rememb'ritig  J  am  Jilted  tuith 
yoy  and  sadness — -joy  that  once  the 
Gods  permitted  tne  to  kiss  it. 
Sadness  that  'tis  kiss' d  already. 
*     *     *     Well  I  know  that 
Kissing  is  far  more  than  language — 
'  Tis  the  silent  chant  of  love — ■ 
And  when  zvords  suffice  no  longer, 
It  heseemeth  well  the  singer 
That  he  bid  his  lips  be  seal'd — 
Therefore  let  our  song  in  silence 
Turn  once  more  towards  the  garden: — 
There  tcpon  the  terrace  steps  the 
Worthy  house-cat  Hiddigeigei 
Suiid  himself  and  looked  astonish'd 
At  his  mistress  as  she  hasten  d 
To  Young  Werner  and  embraced  him, 
And  their  lips  met  and  she  kiss'd  him: 
Thus  philosophizing  spake  he: — 
Searching  in  the  feline  heart  have 
Weighed  and  thought  upon  and  fathom' d 
Many  a  difficult  problem — 
But  there' s  one  remains  unsettled. 
Still  unsolved,  uncomprehended — 
Why  do  people  kiss  each  other  ? 


'  Tis  not  hatred,  for  they  bite  not, 
'  Tis  not  hunger,  for  they  eat  not, 
Nor  can  it  be  blind  a7id  aimless 
Ignorance,  for  they  are  always 
Smart  and  sane  enough  in  actions. 

Why,  then  ?     '  Tis  in  vain  I pottder. 

Why  do  people  kiss  each  other? 

Why,  again,  do  most  the  younger  ? 
And  these  mostly  in  the  Springtime  ? 
On  this  point  unsolved,  unsettled, 
I  will  meditate  more  closely 
On  the  gable-roof  to-tnorrow. 

*  * 

* 

"Margaretha,  sweetest  treasure," 
Spake  Young  Werner,  ''thou  hast  given 
Back  to  me  my  life:  hast  given  it 
Back  enrich' d  tvith  thy  sweet  loving  1  " 
"  Thine  forever  I  so  love  speaketh: 
Thou  and  thou,  and  heart  and  heart,  and 
Lip  to  lip,  that  is  love's  language. 
So  Sir  Werner,  give  another 
Kiss  to  me  I"      That  was  their  wooing. 
When  the  moon  appears  above  us. 
Soon  there  follow  stars  uniittmber'd — 
So  when  kiss  the  first  is  given 
Folloiv  quickly  hosts  of  others. 
But  how  jnany  there  were  robb'd  and 
Then  paid  back  my  song  says  nothing — 
Poetry  and  statistics  stand  just 
Now  on  very  wretched  footing. 

Then  comes  the  denouncement.  In  the  poem 
Werner  asks  for  the  hand  of  his  Margaretha. 
But  the  old  Baron,  hurt  and  surprised,  does 
not  take  the  singer's  request  kindly,  and  he  is 
banished  from  the  castle.  Then  begins  his 
wanderings  anew,  that  lead  him  this  time  to 
Rome.  In  the  opera  he  returns  to  his  post, 
among  the  troopers  in  the  city.  The  Baron  is 
grieved,  however,  for  the  handsome  young 
fellow.  "  It  hurts  me  too,"  he  exclaims,  "to 
refuse  him.  Why  was  not  the  brave  man  called 
Damian  of  Wildenstein."  In  the  opera  the 
Count  of  Wildenstein  arrives  with  Damian.  But 
the  latter  fails  to  make  an  impression  upon  Mar- 
garetha's heart.  Werner  leaves,  after  singing 
Scheffel's  celebrated  song  of  farewell :  ' '  BehvtV 
dich  Gott,  es  ivdr'  zu  schdn gewesen.''' 

Now  Farewell!  0,  hour  of  sadness! 
Who  thee  first  of  all  invented  ? 
Surely  'tzvas  some  wicked  ??iortal 
Dzvelling  near  the  Polar  Ocean; 
Freezing  ly  the  icy  blizzard 
Bleiv  about  his  tiose:  his  shagg-', 
jealous  spouse  his  life  made  zveary. 
And  the  whale's  delicious  blubber 
Never  well  to  him  had  tasted: 
O'er  his  head  he  drew  a  yellow 
Sea-dog's  skin,  and  zuith  his  sturdy 
Staff  171  fur-glov'd  kafid  he  beckoned 
To  his  Ylaleyka,  arid  rudely 
Shouted  to  her  as  he  vanish' d: 
"Fare  thee  well!  I'm  going  to  leave  thee!  "..,.. 
In  the  valley  near  the  castle 
Werner  stay'd  and  with  his  bugle 
Sent  a  last  farewell,  in  greeting 
Up  to  her  he'd  left  behind  him: 


xm 


THE    STORY   OF   THE   OPERA. 


Know  ye  not  the  song  the  swan  sings 
When  Jie  feels  that  death  is  neafing, 

And  sivims  out  upojt  the  waters  ? 

And  the  roses,  and  the  tender 
Water-lilies  hear  his  sorrow: 

"Beauteous  world,  and  must  I  leave  thee? 

Beauteous  world,  and  must  I  die  ?  " 

Act  III— In  the  last  act  of  the  opera 
the  Hauenstein  peasants  attack  the  Baron's 
castle  Damian  proves  to  be  an  arrant  coward, 
while  Werner,  at  the  head  of  the  troopers,  does 
wonders  in  bravery  and  saves  the  castle  from 
pillage.  Fortunately,  too,  it  is  found  out  that 
the  young  bugler  has  a  birthmark  upon  his 
arm,  and  he  turns  out  to  be  the  first  born  son 


of  the  old  Count  of  Wildenstein,  who  had  been 
stolen  from  his  home  as  a  boy  by  a  roving  band 
of  gypsies.  There  is  then  of  course  nothing  to 
prevent  his  marriage  with  Margaretha.  In  the 
poem  Young  Werner  goes  to  Rome,  where  he 
becomes  the  leader  of  the  capella  in  St  Peter's. 
Fair  Margaretha,  after  Werner  had  left  the 
Rhine,  faded  day  by  day  until  at  last  the  Baron 
consented  to  allow  the  Princess-Abbess  to  take 
her  with  her  to  Rome,  where  she  was  to  go  on  a. 
pilgrimage.  It  is  there,  while  present  at  one  of 
the  ceremonial  functions  of  the  church,  that  the 
IViedersehcn  occurs.  Werner  is  ennobled  by 
Pope  Innocent  XL,  the  twain  are  wedded  and 
they  return  to  the  Rhine,  where  they  live  after- 
wards joyous  and  contented.  J.  F.J. 


XIV 


T^be  trumpeter  of  gael^in^en. 

{^tx  ^xmnpkx  ban  BntlxlmxQm.) 


-^0— <$=^^II^^:^»-HJ^- 


Vorsjiiet* — l^retitde* 


©Ift©  (iouft  ^arcj   of  Jfeii^effeerg  (ia^^ffe   6^  RigRt. 


C/ior  der  Studenten. 


Bit  IbciDelberg,  Du  teine, 
2)u  StaDt  an  :iEbren  relcb, 
:am  IReckar  uuD  am  IRbelne 
IReln'  aiiDre  fiommt  Dlr  gleicb. 

II. 

StaDt  froblicbcr  (3e0eUcn, 
Bn  melsbeit  scbwer  unD  Mein, 
IRlar  3iebn  Des  Stromes  Mellen, 
:fiSlauauslein  blitsen  Dreiiu 

III. 

IllnO  fiommt  aus  linDcm  SuDen 
Der  aFrUblliiQ  Uber's  3LauD, 
So  webt  er  C)(r  aus  :fl3lutbcn 
Bin  fcicbimmernJ)  JSrautgewanJ). 

IV. 

aucb  m(r  stebst  &u  gescbriebcn 
5n'0  1ber3  sleicb  elner  JSraut, 
3E6  klingt  wic  jungcs  ILleben 
Detn  IHame  mtr  so  traut. 

Chor  der  Studenten. 
V. 

"ClnD  stecbcn  micb  Die  Dornen, 
TUnD  wirJ)  mir's  Drauss  3u  kabl, 
<5eb'  Icb  Dem  IRoss  Die  Spocnen 
■QlnD  veit'  in's  mechattbai ! 


Chorus  of  Students. 

I. 

©ID  IbeiDelberg,  tbou  jFalrest, 
Mitb  fame  anD  bonors  crovvn'D 

'.flftiD  rivals  tbou  tbe  rarest, 
C;be  IRbine  or  IHecftar  'rounD 

II. 

Ibome  tbou  of  jovial  fellows, 
Jn  wisDom  ricb,  auD  wine ; 

1bow  clear  tbg  IRecftar's  billows ! 
Ibow  brigbt  tbB  maiDens'  egen ! 

Werner. 
III. 

anD  wben  tbe  Spring,  in  splenDor, 
Comes,  all  tbe  lanO  to  bless ; 

"^^iZ  flowers  tbcir  best  surrender, 
Zq  mafte  tb^  briDal  Dress. 

IV. 

Brt  in  mi5  bosom  bolDen, 

a  briDe,  for  ever  near, 
C^bg  name  in  accents  golDen, 

IRings  ever  on  mg  ear. 

Chorus  of  Students. 

V. 

BnD  wben  all  rounD  is  cbeerless, 
2lnD  storms  mg  patb  assail, 

5  spur  m^  borse,  anD,  fearless, 
TRiDe  Down  tbe  IFlecUar's  vale. 


THE  TRUMPETER   OF  SACKINGEN. 


Chorus  of  Troopers. 

Ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!  ha! 

Conradin. 

Right  well  the  fellows  rattle, 
With  never  a  steed  in  stall; 
No  blades  have  they  for  battle; 
They're  goosequill-swordsmen  all! 

Chorus  of  Troopers. 
Ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!  ha! 

Conradin. 

But  look — a  handsome  cavalier! 
From  head  to  foot  a  gallant,  sheer! 
Wears  spursand  sword,  all  spick  and  span, 
From  top  to  toe  a  soldier-man! 

You're  condemn'd  to  sit  and  ponder 
O'er  your  studies  dull  down  yonder, 
While  we  out  to  din  of  battle, 
Through  the  world  on  horseback  rattle. 

Chorus  of  Troopers. 

So,  comrades,  on  to  the  rollicking  reel. 
In  doublet  of  leather  or  corset  of  steel; 
On  whinneying  steed,  the  sword  in  the 

hand. 
So  speeds  the  bold  rider  away  through 

the  land! 

A  Student. 

Listen,  how  their  tongues  are  wagging. 

Sure  they  talk  too  much; 
But  if  braves  were  made  of  bragging 

Then  were  these  troopers  such! 

(A  folding  door  is  opened  in  the  upper  gallery 
and  the  Major-domo  appears  on  the  balcony.) 

Major-domo. 

Silence — silence,  my  good  masters! 
Why  all  this  nocturnal  noise, 
Why  this  rumpus  too  infernal, 
Revelling  and  riot  eternal ! 

Chorus  of  Students. 

Ah,  in  place  of  worse  disaster 
Comes  the  house  and  cellar-master! 
Midnight  must  forsooth  be  near. 
Ha!  ha!  ha! 

Major-domo. 

My  good  sirrahs,  don't  you  hear! 
What  unheard  of  rude  behaviour! 


My  sweet  mistress  begs  you'll  save  your 
Hideous  noise  for  times  of  wassail, 
And  now  get  you  from  the  castle. 

Chorus  of  Students. 

All  hail!  The  Electress  dear! 
She'd  rejoice  if  we  should  here — 
Up  in  song  our  voices  raise, 
And  her  many  virtues  praise! 

Some  of  the  Students. 

Yes,  in  truth,  the  thought  is  bright, 
Serenade — in  the  silent  night, — 
Just  the  thing  for  highborn  ladies. 

Other  Students. 

Such  a  plan  right  eas'ly  made  is, 
But  who  here  shall  dare  the  duty, 
Sing  to  her  of  love  and  beauty  ? 

All  the  Students. 

Brother  Werner! — by  him  best 
Were  our  words  in  tone  express'd; 
Blows  the  flute  and  plays  bass-viol, 
But  bugles  best,  there's  no  denial. 

Werner. 

On  the  bugle!— So  it  be! 

Hand  the  instrument  to  me! 

In  the  gypsy  band  that  brought  me 

Up,  a  player  to  bugle  taught  me. 

And  he  taught  me  pretty  well! 

(To  Conradin.) 
Give  me  thy  war-horn,  comrade  old, 

Thou  man  of  gallant  lighting; 
The  moonbeams  dance  upon  its  gold. 

The  players  lips  inviting! 

Conradin 
(gives  him  the  bugle). 

For  such  a  handsome  youth, 
'Tis  at  your  service,  sooth! 
Though  for  the  higher  needs  of  art 

My  war-horn  ne'er  was  bought; 
It  won  for  me  my  general's  heart 

On  many  a  field  well-fought. 
Fresh  for  reveille  its  echoes  were, 
And  every  evening,  late,  for  her. 
So  let  its  tones  now  bear  along, 
The  plaint  of  Pfalzcount  Friedrich's 

song! 

(Werner  begins,  after  a  short  prelude,  under  the 
Electress's  windows.) 


THE  TRUMPETER   OF  SACKINGEN. 


Chor  der  Reiter  (mit  Spott). 

Ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!  ha! 

Conradin. 

Worauf  wollt  ihr  denn  reiten  ? 
Habt  ja  kein  Ross  im  Stall. 
Habt  ja  kein  Schwert  zum  Streiten, 
Seid  Federfuchser  all' 

Chor  der  Reiter. 

Ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!  ha! 

Conradin, 

Da  schaut  den  schmucken  Reiter  an: 
Vom  Kopf  zum  Fuss  ein  ganzer  Mann, 
Tragt   Sporn    und    Hieber    nicht    zum 

Staat, 
Mit  Herz  und  Hand  ist  er  Soldat. 
Ihr  mlisst  sitzen,  ihr  miisst  schwitzen, 
Im  Colleg  die  Ohren  spitzen, 
Wahrend  wir  zu  Kampf  und  Siegen 
Hoch  zu  Ross  die  Welt  durchfliegen. 

Chor  der  Reiter. 

Wohlauf,   Kameraden,   zum    frohlichen 

Streit, 

Im    ledernen    Warns    wie    im    eisernen 

Kleid, 

Auf    wieherndem    Rosse,    das    Schwert 

in  der  Hand, 

So  flieget  der  Reiter  durch's  weite  Land. 

Ein  Student. 

Ueberall  macht  sich  am  breit'sten 
Wilder  Reiterbrauch; 
War'  der  Prahler  am  gescheidsten, 
War's  der  Reiter  auch! 

(Eine  Fliigelthur  in  der   oberen  Gallerie  offnet 
sich,  und  der  Haushofmeister  der  Kurfiirstin  er- 
scheint.) 

Haushofmeister  (angstlich). 

Aber — aber,  meine  Herren, 
Welche  nachtlich  arge  Storung! 
Just  als  gab'  es  hier  Emporung, 
Oder  hollische  Verschworung! 

Chor  der  Studenten. 

In  Ermang'lung  and'rer  Geister, 
Kommt  der  Haus-  und  Kellermeister! 
Mitternacht  muss  nahe  sein. 
Ha!  ha!  ha! 

Ha  ushoffJieister. 

Meine  Herren,  haltet  ein! 
Welche  rohen  Burschensitten! 


Die  Frau  Kurfiirstin  lasst  bitten, 
Ihren  Schlummer  nicht  zu  storen 
Und  sich  aus  dem  Schloss  zu  scheeren. 

Chor  der  Studenten. 

Hurrah,  die  Frau  Kurfiirstin! 

Sicher  war's  nach  ihrem  Sinn, 

Wenn  wir  ihrer  noch  gedachten 

Und  ihr  gleich  ein  Standchen  briichten. 

Eitiige  Studenten. 

Ja,  wahrhaftig,  klug  gedacht! 
Sang  und  Klang  bei  stiller  Nacht, 
Der  entziickt  ja  stets  die  Fraixen. 

Andere  Stude?iten. 

Doch  wer  wird  sich  wohl  getrauen, 
Ihre  Durchlauchtigsten  Gnaden 
Kiihnlich  anzuserenaden  ? 

Alle  Studenten. 

Bruder  Werner,  du  allein 
Kannst  den  Worten  Tone  leih'n — 
Spielst  die  Gambe,  blast  die  Flote 
Und  zumal  erst  die  Trompete 

Werner. 

Die  Trompete? — Ja,  fiirwahr: 
Reicht  mir  'ne  Trompete  dar! 
Hab'  in  den  Zigeunerhorden, 
D'rin  ich  aufgezogen  worden, 
Das  Trompeten  gut  gelernt. 

(Zu  Conradin.) 

Gieb  mir  dein  Kriegshorn,  Spielgesell, 
Du  alter,  wack'rer  Degen, — 
Im  Mondstrahl  blitzt  es  zauberhell 
Und  lockend  mir  entgegen. 

Conradin 
(giebt  ihm  seine  Trompete). 

Solch'  einem  schmucken  Herrn 
Hilft  jeder  Reiter  gern! 
Zwar  ist  wohl  fiir  die  hohe  Kunst 
Mein  Kriegshorn  nicht  gemacht, 
Doch  hat  es  mir  des  Feldherrn  Guns 
In  mancher  Schlacht  gebracht. 
Frisch  zur  Reveille  schallt'  es  friih, 

Und  erst  am  Abend  spat  fiir  sie 

So  ton'  avich  nun  zum  Lied  sein  Klang, 
Das  einstmal  Pfalzgraf  Friedrich  sang. 

(Werner  praludirt  auf  der  Trompete  unter  dem 
^enster  der  Kurfiirstin.) 


THE  TRUMPETER   OF  SACKINGEN. 


Chorus  of  Students  and  Troopers. 

I. 

as  truest  of  vassals,  5  ftnecl  at  tbg  feet, 

pfal3countess,  fattest  of  fair ! 
CommanJ),  anD  witb  Ikatser  an5  Empire 

^'D  fisbt. 
Command,  anD  for  tbec,  ^es  for  tbee,  3'5 

Oeligbt 
tibe  worlD  into  tatters  to  tear  Ij 

II. 

yx>  fetcb  tbee  from  beaven,  tbe  sun  anD 

tbe  moon, 
pfal3C0untess,  fairest  of  fair  I 
5'D  fetcb  Down  tbe  glittering  stars  witbout 

count, 
Xihe  frogs  on  tbe  point  of  m^  swotD  tbeg 

sboulD  mount, 
BnD  tbou  sboulD'st  gase  on  tbem  tbere ! 

III. 

CommanD,  anD  3^'D  tben  be  tbs  own  court 

fool, 
Ipf al3countcs3,  fairest  of  fair ! 
lea,  fool  ?r  am  now,  witbout  tbs  commanD, 
'BiW'^  "^xvlzXi  bg  tbe  br{gbl=tlasbina  sunligbt 

3  stauD, 
les,  Da3eD  b^  tb^  eges'  brigbt  pair! 

The  Major-domo. 

Good  are  priests  for  ghosts  and  demons, 
Water  helps  with  cats  and  tremens; 
But  airainst  such  bands  rubific, 
Here  on  earth  there's  no  specific. 
Slumber  would  my  mistress  gracious, 
Never  heard  such  row  audacious! 
I  wont  stay  here  more  to  wheedle, 
I'll  the  Rector  fetch  and  beadle. 

The  Students  (mocking). 

Beadle  bum!  Beadle  bum! 
If  you  call  him,  he  will  come! 
Yes,  beadles  they  are  brainy  , 

And  wide  awake, 
And  sun,  or  shine  or  rainy, 
Their  captures  make. 

They  never  eat. 

They  never  drink, 

And  when  on  duty, 

Never  think; 
Yes,  beadles  they  are  brainy 

And  wide  awake. 


The  Alajor-domo. 

Never  heard  such  conduct  sliocking! 
Here,  our  staid  officials  mocking! 
Get  you  hence,  or  else  beware, 
Here  is  not  the  kneipe,  where 
You  can  hold  your  orgies  sickly. 
Go! — I'll  fetch  the  Rector  quickly! 

(Werner    'ays  a  tune  upon  his  bugle.) 

Conradin. 

Hey!  hey!  young  gallant,  that  was  good! 
You  played  that  like  a  court  m.usician! 
Your  veins  have  surely  soldier  blood, 
You're  fitted  for  some  great  position. 
A  noble  steed  is  all  you  lack, 
To  fit  you  to  lead  the  grim  attack. 
Here  is  my  hand,  give  me  your  own — 
Come,  drink  a  bumper,  comrade  gay, 
And  join  our  ranks  as  soldier  to-day! 

Werner. 

Nay,  nay!  Nay,  nay!  I  understand! 
Recruiters'  drums  are  heard  in  the  land, 
You,  too,  might  be  a  recruiter  bold. 

Conradi?i. 
For  recruiting  officer  I'm — too  old! 

Werner. 

A  trooper's  blade  I'd  gladly  hold; 
But,  alas,  my  good  old  foster-pater. 
Who  with  his  worthy  name  baptized  me, 
And  all  through  life  has  idolized  me, 
And  here  in  our  good  Alma  Mater 
As  doctor  of  laws  is  a  worthy  Professor, 
Would  fain,  that  I  should  be  his  succes- 
sor. 

Co7iradin, 

That  a  noble  work — I'm  sure  is! 
Well,  so  take  thy  Corpus  Juris, 
Seat  thee  on  the  bench  and  gnaw  the 
Bcmes  and  crumbs,  the  Roman  lawyers 
Left  you  from  their  banquet  table. 

Werner. 

Roman  law,  of  all  law  fountain! 
Nightmare  on  me,  like  a  mountain! 

Through  the  wide  world  I  would  wander, 
Where  the  moonbeams  kiss  the  dew; 
Where  the  gods  their  best  gifts  squander, 


And  where  Love  is 


strong  and  true. 


THE  TRUMPETER   OF  SACKINGEN. 


Chor  der  Studenten  uiid  Reiter. 


I. 


^cb  ??n(ce  vor  Bucb  als  gctreuer  IJasall, 
Iptalsgrafln,  scbonstc  &er  jFvauen ! 

J3efeblct,  so  strelt'  icb  mit  Ikaiser  unC» 

IRefcb, 

asefeblet,  go  will  icb  fiir  Bucb,  fur  Bucb, 
5)ie  IClelt  in  3Fet3en  3erbaueiu 


II. 


Jcb  bor  Bucb  vom  Ibimmel  Die  Sonn*  unD 

J)eu  /llbonD, 
ptalsgrafin,  scbonste  Der  3f  rauen ! 
5cb  bor  Bucb  Me  Sterne  sonOer  2;abl, 
Mie  3fro6cbleln  sollt  3^br  Die  funKelnDen 

air 
©esplesst  am  2)egen  erecbauen. 


III. 


:fi3eteblet,  so  vverD*  icb  fiir  Eucb  3um  flarr, 

Ipfalsgrafint  scbonste  Der  3f rauen ! 
5a,  Iflarre  bin  icb  scbon  sonOer  asefebl, 
2)as  Sonn'licbt  blenDet  micb  all3ubell 
Won  Buren  3wo  Bugen,  Den  blauen. 

Haushofmeister. 

Gegen  Geister  hilft  der  Pater, 
Wasser  gegen  Katz'  und  Kater: 
Wenn  wir  doch  ein  Mittel  kennten 
Gegen  Reiter  und  Studenten. 
Die  Frau  Kurfiirstin  will  schlafen. 
Der  Senat  soil  euch  bestrafen; — 
Geht  ihr  nicht,  so  Schick  ich  schnell 
Noch  zu  Rector  und  Pedell. 

Die  Studenten  (spottend). 

Zum  Pedell  ?     Hei  duida  ? 
Nennst  du  ihn,  gleicla  ist  er  da, 
Pedelle  sind  der  Segen 

Von  jeder  Zeit, 
Im  Sonnenschein  und  Regen 

Zum  Fang  bereit. 

Sie  essen  nicht, 

Sie  trinken  nicht, 

Vergessen  nicht 

Des  Dienstes  Pflicht: 
Pedelle  sind  der  Segen 

Von  jeder  Zeit. 


Haushofmeister. 

Seht  mir  solche  freche  Rotten 
Selbst  die  Obrigkeit  verspotten. 
Sucht  das  Weite!   macht  euch  fort! 
Hier  ist  wahrlich  nicht  der  Ort, 
Noch  bei  Nacht  zu  commerciren; — 
Will  den  Rector  gleich  citiren! 

Conradin. 

Ei,  ei,  Jungbiirschlein  Wohlgemuth, 

Du  blast  ja  wie  ein  Hoftrompeter, 

In  dir  steckt  echtes  Reiterblut, 

Du  bist  zu  gut  fiir  Tint'  und  Feder. 

Ein  schnelles  Ross  nur,  glaube  mir, 

Fehlet  zum  echten  Reiter  dir, 

Hier  meine  Hand  und  schlage  frohlich 

ein, 
Trink'  aus  dem  Humpen,  Kamerad, 
Auf  unsere  Rotte,  dann  bist  du  Soidat. 

Werner. 

Lasst  ab!  lasst  ab!  es  ist  mir  bekannt, 
Die  Werbetrommel  geht  durch's  Land; — 
Ihr  konntet  selbst  ja  Werber  sein. 

Conradin. 
Ich,  Werbeoffizier  ? — O  nein! 

Werner. 

Ein  Reitersmann  mocht'  ich  wohl  sein; 

Allein  mein  alter  Pflegevater, 

Der  mich  von  den  Zigeunern  kaufte 

Und  dann  auf  seinen  Namen  taufte 

Und  hier  an  uns'rer  alma  mater 

In  beiden  Rechten  ist  Professor, 

Der  mcichte  gern,  ich  wUrd'  Assessor. 

Conradin. 

Ei,  Respect  vor  der  Carriere, 
Nun,  so  nimm  dein  Corpus  juris, 
Setz'  dich  auf  die  Bank  und  hore, 
Wie  vom  Herrn  Professor  wird 
Altes  rom'sches  Recht  docirt. 

Werner. 

Romisches  Recht,  diegrosste  der  Plagen! 
Ach,  ich  hab'  es  langst  im  Magen! — 

Mochte  in  die  Feme  schweifen, 
Wo  der  Mond  die  Nebel  kiisst, 
Kiihn  die  weite  Welt  durchstreifen. 
Bis  ein  holdes  Lieb  mich  griisst. 


THE  TRUMPETER  OF  SACKING  EN. 


On  my  reckless  course  would  hold  me, 
Struggling  aye  with  fate  malign, 

Till  two  eyes  of  sunshine  told  me: 
Rest  thee,  here  is  rapture  thine! 

O  vision  of  rapture! 
O  dreams  full  of  bliss! 
O  lips  that  shall  capture 
My  heart  with  a  kiss! 

To  youth  aye  uncloses 
The  blossoms  that  thrill; 
Let  rapture  and  roses 
My  life  henceforth  fill! 

Conradin. 

O  dreaming*  of  rapture, 
A  life  full  of  bliss; 
Yes  lips  can  e'en  capture 
The  heart  with  a  kiss! 

To  youth  aye  uncloses 
The  blossoms  that  thrill; 
Despair  not,  for  roses 
The  young  heart  shall  fill! 

Grasp  your  bugle,  do  your  duty: 
Take  a  dark-eyed  gypsy  beauty, 
Or  if  not,  a  maid  with  golden 
Hair  and  other  charms  untolden; 
Then  on  horseback  with  us  go, 
With  us  aye  the  bugle  blow! 

Werner. 

What  ?   Your  bugler  ?    'Tis  truly  meant  ? 
And  in  your  good  regiment. 
You'll  take  me  as  a  trooper  bold  ? 

Conradift. 
So,  here's  to  you,  and  take  the  gold! 

Chorus  of  Troopers. 

So  the  bargain  firmly  hold! 
Shalt  to  no  man  subject  be. 
But  a  trooper,  strong  and  free! 

Werner. 
Nay,  wont  be  bounden  thus  to  you! 

Conradin. 

Well  then,  I  must  my  duty  do: 

Up — and  seize  him — he's  our  booty  1 

Werner. 
Comrades — come ! 


The  Troopers. 

For  life  and  duty! 

Cofiradin. 
Hey,  he  fights  like  any  trooper! 

The  Students. 

Comrades — strike ! 

(The  Rector  and  two  Beadles  interfere). 

The  Rector. 
Stay  your  hands!  No  fighting! 

The  Major-domo. 

See  you  not,  Magnificus  ? 
Here  they  make  this  dreadful  fuss; 
Here  your  academic  youngsters 
Scoff  at  order,  fight  with  bungsters! 
Example  make  of  all  the  number, 
They  broke  up  the  Princess'  slumber! 

Rector  Magnificus. 

Example  make  of  all  the  number, 
The  Electress  can  not  slumber. 
Bad  enough  is  bugle  blowing. 
Worse,  this  riot  nocturnal,  knowing, 
You  are  on  forbidden  spot; 
Therefore  be  the  graceless  lot 
Relegirt  and  exmittirt, 
Excernirt  and  excludirt! 

Some  of  the  Stude7its. 
Relegirt  and  exmittirt? 

Others. 
Excernirt  and  excludirt  ? 

Rector. 
All,  yes,  all  be  relegirt! 

Werner. 
Benches,  debts  and  all  be  quitted! 

Chorus  of  Students. 

Relegirt  ? — Alack  a  day! 
Heidelberg — we  must  away! 
Heidelberg,  thou  home  of  Muses, 
Lo  thy  penal  code's  a  shame: 
Rights  alas,  to  us  refuses, 
Which  thy  nightingales  may  claim! 


THE  TRUMPETER  OF  SACKING  EN, 


Mocht'  auf  muth'gem  Rosse  jagen, 
Kiimpfen  kiihn  mit  dem  Geschick, 
Bis  zwei  liebe  Augen  sagen: 
Ruhe  aus,  hier  winkt  dein  Gliick! 

O  Wonnegedanken, 

O  Traume  voll  Lust, 

Ihr  schlingt  euch  wie  Ranken 

Um  meine  Brust! 

Brich,  jugendlich  Wagen, 
Mit  frischem  Schein, 
Wie  rosiges  Tagen 
Ill's  Leben  herein! 

Conradin. 

Das  nenn'  ich  Gedanken 
Voll  Lebenslust! 
O,  lass'  sie  nicht  wanken 
In  deiner  Brust. 

Die  Jugend  muss  wagen, 
Muss  muthig  sein — 
Nicht  griibeln,  nicht  zagen, 
Dem  Gliicke  sich  weih'n. 

Darum  greif  nach  der  Trompete, 
Nimm  ein  schwarzgelocktes  Miidchen; 
Heisst  sie  Marthe  oder  Grete— 
Wenn    sie    nur    die  Schonst'  im  Stadt- 

chen; 
Zieh'  zu  Ross  landaus,  landein, 
Kannst  bei  uns  Trompeter  sein. 

Werner. 

Wie?  Trompeter? — Potz  Element! 

Und  in  eurem  Regiment  ? 

Ei,  das  war',  wie  ich's  gewollt. 

Conradin. 

So  stoss'  an  und  nimm  dies  Gold! 

Chor  der  Reiter. 

Ja,  stoss'  an  und  nimm  das  Gold, 
Dann  ist's  so,  wie  du's  gewollt! 
Bist  dann  Keinem  unterthan, 
Bist  ein  freier  Reitersmann. 

Werner. 

Nein,  damit  fangt  ihr  mich  nicht. 

Conradin. 

Nun,  so  kenn'  ich  meine  Pflicht: 
Auf,  ergreift  mir  den,  Soldaten! 


Werner. 


Burschen,  'raus! 


Die  Reiter. 

D'rauf,  Kameraden! 

Conradin. 
Ei,  der  kann's  ja  wie  ein  Reiter! 

Die  Studenten. 
Burschen,  d'rauf! 

(Der  Rector  magnificus  tritt  mit  Pedellen  dazwi- 
schen.) 

Rector  magnificus. 

Haltet  ein!  nicht  weiter! 

Haushofmeister. 

Seht  Ihr  es,  Magnificenz  ? 

Klar  wird's  euch  zur  Evidenz: 

Eure  akadem'sche  Jugend 

Ehrt  nicht  Ruh',  noch  Biirgertugend; — 

Exemplarisch  miisst  Ihr  strafen 

Ihre  Durchlaucht  kann  nicht  schlafen! 

Der  Rector  mag7iificus. 

Exemplarisch  muss  ich  strafen — 
Ihre  Durchlaucht  kann  nicht  schlafen! 
Schlimm  ist  das  Trompetenblasen, 
Schlimm  das  Larmen  und  das  Rasen 
Hier  bei  Nacht  im  hohen  Schloss; 
Darum  sei  der  ganze  Tross 
Relegirt  und  exmittirt, 
Excernirt  und  excludirt. 

Einige  Studenten, 
Relegirt  und  exmittirt  ? 

Andere. 
Excernirt  und  excludirt  ? 

Rector. 
AUe — Alle  relegirt! 

Werner. 
Relegirt  von  Bank  und  Schulden  ? 

Siudentenchor. 

Relegirt  ?     O  Schreckenswort! 
Heidelberg,  wir  miissen,  fort! 

INIusenstadt,  dir  muss  ich  klagen, 
Was  dein  Strafgesetzbuch   spricht: 
Nachtigallen  diirfen   schlagen, 
Doch  Studenten  durfen's  nicht. 


THE  TRUMPETER  OF  SACKINGEN. 


Werner. 
Lord  Rector  Magnificus, 
Wrong  it  is  to  use  vis  thus; 
Prisoners  we  will  never  be, 
We'll  be  troopers,  frank  and  freel 

Chorus  of  Students. 

Prisoners  we  will  never  be, 
We'll  be  troopers,  brave  and  free! 

(The  Rector  Magnificus,    the   Major-domo    and 
Beadles  leave.) 

Wei-ner. 

Ho!  gallant  trooper!  where's  your  gold? 
The  devil  with  pens,  ink  and  paper  may 

hump  it! 
Your  earnest  here! — I'm  a  trooper  bold, 
And  glory  awaits   when  you  hear  my 

trumpet! 


AIL 

Oh,  comrades,  on  to  the  rollicking  reel. 
In  doublet  of  leather,  or  corset  of  steel; 
On  whinneying  steed,  the  sword  in  the 

hand, 
So  rides  the  bold  trooper  away  through 

the  land! 

Where's  courage,  there's  strength,  and 

where  strength,  there's  might; 

The  thicker  the  foe  and  the  hotter  the 

fight; 
The  hotter  the  fight,  and  the  sooner  it's 

done; 
Then  on:  there's  many  more  days  to  be 

won! 

(They  march  away,  Werner  blowing   the  bugle, 
passing  under  the  window  of  the  Electress.) 


END   OF   THE   PRELUDE. 


THE  TRUMPETER   OF  SACKWGEN. 


Werner. 

Alle. 

Herr  Rector  magnificus, 

Wohlauf,   Kameraden,    zum    frolilichen 

Bringt  dem  Career  unsern  Gruss: 

Streit, 

Nimmer  sperrt  Ihr  uns  mehr  ein, 

Im    ledernen    Wams    und    im   eisernen 

Wollen  freie  Reiter  sein! 

Kleid, 

Auf   wieherndem    Rosse,    das    Schwert 

Chor  der  Studenten. 

1 

in  der  Hand, 

Nimmer  sperrt  Ihr  uns  mehr  ein, 

So  fiieget  der  Reiter  durch's  weite  Land. 

Wollen  freie  Reiter  sein! 

Wo  Muth,  da  ist  Kraft,  und  wo  Kraft, 

(Rector  magnificus  mit  dem  Haushofmeister  und 

da  ist  Macht, 

den  Pedellen  ab.) 

Je  dichter  der  Feind,  desto  heisser  die 

Schlacht; 

Werner. 

Je  heisser  die  Schlacht,  desto  kiihler  's 

Ja,  freie  Reiter!    Nun  wohlan! 

Ouartier: 

Zum  Henker  mit  Tinte  und  Feder— 

Stets  vorwarts  weht  lustig  des  Reiters 

Das  Handgeld   her! — Bin  Reitersmann 

Panier. 

Und  wohlbestallter  Kriegstrompeter. 

(Abmarsch.) 

ENDE   DES   VORSPIELS. 


5 


ACT  L 

8ttint  J"rii)ofiRe'8  Daq. 


©pea    pface    before    t^e  (sfturcft    o^  ^1".   iJric^ofiae   af  ^^'^.^''^g®'^* 


FIRST  SCENE. 

Chorus  and  Peasant  Dance. 

Young  Hans  swings  his  Liesa,  and  Liesa 

her  Hans, 
Hurrah — and  hurrah — they  join  in  the 

dance  ; — 
How  merry  the  fiddle,  how  deep  drones 

the  bass  ; 
They  trip  it  so  lightly,  each  lad  with  his 

lass!  Hurrah! 

Some  Old  Men. 

All  too  early  you've  begun! 
In  the  evening,  every  one 
Could  to  Fridolini's  glory 
Dance  away  till  he  grows  hoary! 

Some  Young  Sackingers. 

O  Fridoline,  saint-patron  won 

By  all  young  people  worthy, 
We  sing  thy  praise,  o  Erin's  son, 

And  for  thy  grace  implore  thee; 
We  praise  thee  in  the  glad   spring-tide, 
When  world  and  heart  are  open  wide. 
And  flowers  their  heads  up  raise, — 

A  thousand  times  we  praise 

Thee,  sainted  Fridoline! 

Conradin. 
O,  sainted  Fridoline! 

Some  of  the  Young  Girls  (teasing  him). 

What  makes  the  ancient  trooper  sigh — 
For  love   long  since  bid  him  good-bye. 


Conradin. 

0  Fridolini  holy, 

Thy  servant  I  am  wholly; 
O  why  dost  lend  thy  glory 
To  young  ones  only  ?  —  Hoary 

1  am,  yet  not  of  stone! 

The  Young  Girls. 

Yes,  yes,  that's  quite  well  known! 

Yet,  wise  is  he 

Who  clear  can  see 
When  comes  his  time  to  rest  a  wee. 

Conradin. 

And  that  I  call  pure  insolence! 
You  young  ones  mock  at  my  expense! 
Think  you  the  worthy  magistrate 
Put  me  in  power  for  show  and  state  ? 

O  no,  but  that  I  should 
Watch  o'er  you  always  for  your  good! 

The  Young  Girls  (laughing). 

Hey,  sure  it  must  a  burden  be. 
Since  age  is  not  from  folly  free! 

Conradin. 

Hey,  come  to  me,  sweet  sassie, 
You  red-cheeked  Schwarzwald  lassie, 
And  give  a  hearty  kiss, — 
O  sweet  one,  grant  me  this  ! 

Chorus  of  Haueiistein  Peasants. 

What  does  the  wrinkled  grayhead  want  ? 
Thinks  he  can  younger  men  supplant! 

Conradin. 

And  though  my  heart  is  somewhat  worn, 
The  girls  need  treat  me  not  with  scorn. 


ERSTER  AKT. 


Sttnfit  driOofiiVs^Sao. 


lltfl 


anivi-wa^yt. 


<^< 


ERSTE    SCENE. 

C/ior  und  Bauerntanz. 

Der  Hans  schwingt  die  Liese,  die  Liese 

den  Hans, 
Juchheirassasa,    die    dreh'n    sich   beim 

Tanz;  — 
Hell  tonet  die  Fiedel,  und  tief  brummt 

der  Bass, 
Wie  hebt  das  die  Fiisse,  wie  lustig  klingt 

das! 
Juchhe! 

Einige  dltere  Manner. 

Was  fangt  ihr  so  friih  schon  an  ? 
Kann  doch  Abends  Jedermann 
Zu  St.  Fridolini  Ehren 
Noch  genug  den  Tanzsaal  kehren. 

Chor  der  fungefi  Sdkktnger. 

O,  Fridoline,  Schutzpatron 

Fiir  alle  jungen  Leute, 

Gegriisst  sei  uns,  du  Nordlandssohn, 

Dein  schoner  Festtag  heute  — 

Gegrusst  im  ersten  Friihlingslicht, 

Wo  Welt  und  Herz  die  Rinde  bricht 

Und  Alles  bliiht  und  spriesst. 

Sei  tausendmal  gegriisst, 

O,  heil'ger  Fridoline! 

Conradin. 
O,  heil'ger  Fridoline! 

Einige  junge  Mddcher. 
(neckend  zu  ihm). 

Was  seufzt  Er,  alter  Reiter,  denn, 
Als  ob  ihm  Lieb'  im  Herzen  brenn'  ? 


Conradin. 

O,  heil'ger  Fridoline, 
Dem  ich  so  gerne  diene: 
Warum  gilt  all  dein  Waken 
Den  Jungen  nur?  —  Wir  Alten 
Sind  doch  auch  nicht  von  Stein! 

Die  jungen  Mddchen. 

Ja,  ja,  das  mag  wohl  sein! 

Doch  weise  ist 

Wer  nicht  vergisst, 

Wann  fiir  ihn  Zeit  zur  Ruhe  ist. 

Conradin, 

Das  nenn*  ich  mir  doch  Uebermuth! 
Respekt  vor  mir,  du  junge  Brut! 
Glaubt  ihr,  der  hohe  Magistrat 
Hat  mich  hierher  gesetzt  zum  Staat  ?  — 
O  nein,  dass  ich  verstandnissvoll 
Euch  Alle  iiberwachen  soil! 

Die  jujigen  Mddchen  (iachend). 

Ei,  wahrlich  eine  schwere  Pflicht; 
Denn  Alter  schiitzt  vor  Thorheit  nicht. 

Conradin, 

Drum   komm  mal  her,  mein   Kiithchen, 
Rothwangig  Schwarzwaldmadchen, 
Und  gieb  mir  einen  Schmatz^ 
Du  siisser  Herzensschatz! 

Chor  der  Hauensteiner  Bauer n. 

Was  fiillt  dem  alten  Graukopf  ein  ?  — 
Liisst  er  gleich  das  Charmiren  sein! 

Conradin, 

Ward  bei  der  Liebe  wettergrau: 
Die  Weiber  kenn'  ich  ganz  genau  — 


THE  TRUMPETER   OF  SACKINGEN. 


Chorus. 

For  Hans  swings  his  Liesa,   and   Liesa 

her  Hans,  etc. 

The  Peasants. 

Nay  that  is  sure  a  sin  and  shame, 
When  soldier  men  with  peasants  claim 
That  they  in  rank  are  just  the  same. 

Conradin. 

Oh,  we  are  the  warriors! 
And  you  are  the  carriers! 

The  Peasants. 

Your  work  is  like  our  Baron's  there, — 
His  bailiffs  go  from  fair  to  fair, 
And  not  a  day,  this  land  within, 
But  what  he  scrapes  the  taxes  in! 
Let  our  soil  be  free  from  toll! 

Conradin, 

Nay,  how  you  peasants  rave: — 
The  peasant's  but  his  slave, 
Whom  he  from  overcoming  pride 
Must  like  a  father  ward,  and  chide  ! 

The  Peasants. 

That's  just  like  servile  warmen's  talk, 
Who  always  with  the  nobles  stalk; — 
But  you'll  find: — With  lords  entangled. 
With  the  lords  you'll  all  be  strangled ! 

Conradin. 

I  pray  you,  do  not  quite  forget, 
There's  many  a  sturdy  warman  yet, 
Who'd  love  to  have  the  gentle  task 
To  give  the  peasants  all  they  ask! 

The  Peasants. 

Foolhardy  trooper,  pray  take  care. 
The  peasant's  cudgel  does  not  spare! 


SECOND   SCENE. 

(Werner  appears.) 

Werner. 

I  pray,  be  calm,  friend  Conradin! 
Let  peace  prevail  to  Fridolin — 
Why  brawl  on  such  a  day,  and  fight  ? 


Conradin. 

Whom  see  I  ?    Werner? — Wiiat  delightt 
You  came  just  in  the  nick  o'time, 
Unsheath    your    sword! — and    in    then 

chime! 

Werner. 

Nay,  hold  thee!    From  all  rows  abstain! 
Rejoice  that  we  have  met  again. 

Conradin. 
You're  just  in  time  to  see  the  fun. 

Werner. 

I  see,  good  friend!    From  every  way 
The  stream  oi  pilgrims,  bright  and  gay. 

Conradin. 

Saint  Fridolini's  day  of  glory — 
The  patron  saint  of  younger  people. 

Werner. 

And  I  myself  am  not  yet  old, 

With  heart  still  whole,  of  courage  bold; 

I  pray  the  saint  to  me  be  good! 

And  see,  there  on  the  Rhine's  clear  flood, 

A  gallant  fleet  of  boats. 

Conradin. 

'Tis  fair! 

Werner. 
And  whom  bears  yonder  bark  ? 

Conradin. 

A  pair 
Of  truly  very  diff'rent  kind. 

Werner. 

Of  Dawn  and  Dusk,  they  me  remind — 
One  clad  in  mourning's  dark  array. 
The  other  young,  and  sweet  as  day — 
Tell  me,  who  is  the  vision  bright — 
Just  like  a  dream  of  spring's  delight  ? 

Conradin. 

The  Baron's  daughter  she — 
Escorted  by  her  aunt,  the  Abbess. 

Werner. 

I    never    dreamt    of    such    entrancing 

beauty! 


THE  TRUMPETER   OF  SACKING  EN. 


Chor. 

Der  Hans  schwingt  die  Liese,  die  Liese 

u.  s.  w. 

Die  Bauern. 

Das  ist  doch  eine  Slind'  und  Schand'! 
Soldatenstand  und  Bauernstand, 
Die  passen  nimmer  zu  einand. 

Cotiradin, 

Ja,  wir  sind  auch  der  Wehrstand, 
Und  ihr  doch  nur  der  Niihrstand! 

Die  Bauern. 

INIacht's  auch  wie  unser  Freiherr  dort, 
Der  Vogte  schickt  von  Ort  zu  Ort 
Und  alle  Tage  weiss  ein  Fest, 
An  dem  er  Steuern  sammeln  lasst. 
Unser  Land  sei  steuerfrei! 

Conradin. 

Der  Freiherr  hat  ganz  Recht: 
Der  Bauer  ist  sein  Knecht, 
TiQw  er  vor  Stolz  und  Ueberfluss 
Stets  vaterlich  behtiten  muss. 

Die  Bauern. 

Das  ist  so  recht  des  Kriegsvolks  Art, 
Das  stets  sich  um  den  Adel  schaart; 
Doch  bald  heisst's:    "  Mitgegangen, 
Darum  auch  mitgehangen." 

Conradiii. 

Habt  ihr's  auf  s  Kriegsvolk  abgesehn  ? 
Hier  seht  ihr  einen  Reiter  stehn, 
Der  Trutz  dem  Bauernvolke  beut 
Und  solch  Gesindel  nimmer  scheut. 

Die  Bauern. 

Verweg'ner  Reiter,  wehr'  dich  gut: 
Der  Bauernkniittel  farbt  mit  Blut! 


ZWEITE    SCENE. 

Werner   zu    den    Vorigen. 
Werner. 

Gemach,  gemach,  Freund  Conradin! 
Musst  du  selbst  bei  Sanct  Fridolin 
Zum  Raufen  deine  Klinge  ziehn  ? 


Conradin. 

Was  seh'  ich  ?  Werner  ?  Welche  Freud'  \ 
Du  kommst  mir  just  zur  rechten  Zeit: 
Die  Klinge  'raus!  Hilf  mir  beim  Streit! 

Werner. 

O  nicht  doch!  Lass  die  Leute  gehn, 
Und  f  reue  dich,  dass  wir  uns  wiedersehn. 

Conradin. 
Kommst  just  zum  Fest  zur  rechten  Zeit. 

Werner. 

Das  seh'  ich,  Freund  !  —  Auf  jedem  Pfad 
Der  Strom  der  frommen  Waller  naht. 

Conradin. 

Sanct  Fridolini  Fest  ist  heute, 

Des  Schutzpatrons  der  jungen  Leute. 

Werner. 

Ich  bin  ja  auch  ein  junges  Blut 

Mit  frischem  Sinn  und  keckem  Muth: 

Der  Heil'ge  magmirgnadig  sein! 

Viel  bunte  Nachen  wiegt  der  Rhein  — 

Ei,  wie  das  flaggt  und  weht! 

Conradin. 

Nicht  wahr  ? 

Werner. 
Und  wen  triigt  jener  dort  ? 

Conradin. 

Ein  Paar 
Von  wahrlich  ganz  verschied'ner  Art. 

Wertier. 

Wie  sich  mit  Nacht  der  Morgen  paart, 

Schmiegt  sich  an's  dunkle  Trauerkleid 

Der  Andern  eine  junge  Maid. 

Sag  an,  wer  ist  das  holde  Bild, 

Das  wie  ein   Frlihlingstraum  so  mild? 

Conradin. 

Das  ist  des  Freiherrn  Tochterlein 
Mit  ihrer  gestrengen  Frau  Base. 

Werner. 
Nie  ahnt'  ich  solcher  Schonheit  Wonne! 


THE  TRUMPETER  OF  SACKINGEN. 


THIRD    SCENE. 

Countess,  Margaretha,    Boatmen. — The  Former. 
Finally  St.  Fridoline's  Procession. 

T^e  Boatmen. 
Make  room,  ye  peasants! 

The  Feasants. 

And  for  whom  ? 
Peasants  here  have  rights,  if  any, 
More  than  you  or  just  as  many; 
Here  to  spite  you  all  we'll  stay! 
Let  see  who'll  drive  us  now  away  ? 

Werner. 

I! — Off,  ye  rascals!  Do  you  dare  ? 

Full  soon  I'll  better  manners  teach  you! 

The  Peasants. 

Wait  now,  pretty  player,  wait! 
Learning's  just  what  peasants  hate — 
But  they'll  learn  what  stuff  you're  made 

of. 

Werner  (to  Margaretha). 

Do  not  fear! — Let  them  beware! 
Trust  yourself  to  my  good  care! 

Margaretha. 

Thanks,  good  sir!  For  such  brave  duty; 
Great  the  service  you  have  done! 

Werner. 

(Thanks  from  so  much  grace  and  beauty; 
Sweet  reward  that  I  have  won!) 
Yet  if  you  would  give  me  pleasure. 
Gracious  one,  beyond  all  measure, — 
— Give  me. one  forget-me-not 
From  the  wreath  upon  your  breast! 

Margaretha. 

Can  my  thanks  be  so  expressed — 
Right  willingly! 

(She  gives  him  a  forget-me-not,  which  he  places 

on  his  hat.    Werner  makes  a  gesture  bidding  the 

peasants  stand  back.     Margaretha  gazes  at  him 

with  evident  interest.) 

The  Peasants. 

O  look  you — see  ! 
With  the  Baron's  daughter  he, 
Walks  about  so  proud  and  prim — 
What  can  she  e'er  be  to  him  1 


The  Countess  (to  Conradin). 

Too  disgusting!-Plebeian  folk  !-But  can 
You  say  who  is  yon  handsome  man, 
Of  such  distinguished  bearing, 
Who  serv'd  us  by  his  daring! 

Conradi?i. 

His  name  is  Werner,  noble  dame. 
Kirchhof  was  aye  the  good  man's  name 
Who  found  him  'mong  a  gypsy  brood, 
And  later  for  his  father  stood. 

Cou?itess. 

What  ?    With  the  gypsies  ?     Not  a  trace 
Has  he  in  feature  of  their  race! 
My  son  would  just  his  age  have  been, 
And  like  him  too  in  form  and  mien, 
Had  he  not  been  by  those  forsaken 
Hordes  from  us,  an  infant,  taken. 

Conradin. 

He  would  have  made  more  show  and  state. 
Than  does  our  modest  soldier  mate. 
Who  sooth's  a  bugler  most  industrious. 

Countess  (pointing  to  her  arm). 

My  very  image  call'd  was  he — 

E'en  to  this  birthmark  that  you  see — 

But  he's  a  bugler, — unillustrious! 


Margaretha! 


Countess. 


Werner. 


Margaretha ! 
On  earth  the  fairest  flower, — 
Her  name  the  sweetest  song! 

Countess  (to  Margaretha). 

O  come!    Why  stay  we  here  so  long? 

Margaretha. 

Pray  do  not  be  impatient,  dearest! 
Well,  let  us  to  the  church  proceed 
And  from  the  saint  his  blessing  plead. 

Chorus. 

O  sainted  Fridoline, 
To  thee  our  voice  we  raise: 
For  field,  and  fruit  and  flowers. 
Send  sun  and  shine  and  showers, 

Be  thine  the  praise! 


8 


THE  TRUMPETER  OF  SACKINGEN. 


DRITTE   SCENE. 

Grafin,   Maria,   Schiffsleute.     Die  Vorigen.     Zu- 
letzt  der  Fridolinsfestzug. 

Die  Schiffsleute. 
Macht  Platz,  ihr  Bauern! 

Die  Bauern, 

Ei,  wozu  ? 
Hier  hat  der  Bauer  so  viel  Rechte, 
Und    mehr    noch,    als    des     Freiherrn 

Knechte. 
Wir  werden  euch  zum  Trotze  bleiben! 
Lasst  sehn!  wer  will  uns  hier  vertreiben? 

Werner. 

Ich!  —  Weg,  ihr  Leute!  Treibt  ihr's  so  ? 
Ich  will  euch  bess're  Sitten  lehren! 

Die  Bauern. 

Wart'  nur,  junger  Spielmann,  wart': 
Lernen  ist  nicht  Bauernart;  — 
Wollen  die  dich  kennen  lehren! 

Werner  (zu  Maria). 

Fiirchtet  nichts,  ich  biete  Trutz, 
Und  vertraut  euch  meinem  Schutz! 

Maria. 

Nehmet  Dank!  Ein  braver  Reiter, 
Der  bedrohte  Frauen  schiitzt! 

Wer?ier  (fiir  sich). 

Ha,  wie  siiss  der  Strahl  der  Freude 
Jetzt  aus  ihren  Augen  blitzt ! 

(laut.) 
Dankt  mir  nicht,  mein  holdes  Friiulein! 
That  nicht  mehr  als  meine  Pflicht;  — 
Wollt  ihr  aber  mich  beglilcken, 
Unaussprechlich  mich  entziicken, 
Schenkt  mir  ein  Vergissmeinnicht 
Aus  dem  Strausse,   der  euch  schmiickt. 

Maria. 

Wenn  das  Bliimchen  euch  begliickt  — 
Von  Herzen  gern! 

Die  Bauern. 

Seht  doch  den  Herrn! 

Wie  er  mit  dem  Schlossfriiulein 

Thut  so  artig  und  so  fein 

Will  der  ein  Trompeter  sein  ? 


Die  Grafin  (zu  Conradin). 

Es  ist  emporend  -  dieses  Volk !  -  Sagt  an, 
Wer  aber  ist  der  junge  Mann 
Von  ritterlichem  Wesen, 
Der  unser  Hort  gewesen  ! 

Conradin. 

Er  nennt  sich  Werner,  hohe  Dame;  — 
Kirchhofer  war  des  Mannes  Name, 
Der  eiast  ihn  bei  Zigeunern  fand 
Und  spliter  dann  nach  sich  benannt. 

Grafin. 

Wie  ?  bei  Zigeunern  ?  Offenbar 

War  er  doch  nicht  von  ihrem  Stamm!  — 

Mein  Sohn  wiir'  nun  wohl  audi  so  alt 

Und  von  so  lieblicher  Gestalt, 

War'  er  von  solchen  wilden  Horden 

Als  Kind  uns  nicht  gestohlen  worden. 

Conradin. 

Der  machte  sicher  wohl  mehr  Staat 

Als  dieser  schlichte  Kamerad, 

Der  sonst  ein  Spielmann  ohne  Tadel. 

Grafin 
(auf  ihren  Arm  deutend). 

Es  war  ja  ganz  mein  Ebenbild — 

Bis  auf  dies  Mai  am  Arm  mein  Bild 

Und  der  ein  Spielmann,  nicht  von  Adel! 


Maria! 


Grafin. 


Werner. 


O,  Maria! 
Im  Himmel  und  auf  Erden 
Des  schdnsten  Namens  Klang! 

Grafin  (zu  Maria). 

O  komm!  Was  weilst  du  hier  so  lang? 

Maria. 

Wollt'  nur  nicht  ungeduldig  werden! 
Kommt,  lasst  uns  in  die  Kirche  geh'n 
Und  uns  vom  Heil'gen  Gliick  erfleh'n! 

Chor. 

O,  heil'ger  Fridoline, 

Sei  uns  gebenedeit! 
Schenk'  unser'n  Fluren  Segen 
Und  Sonnenschein  und  Regen 

Zur  rechten  Zeit. 


THE  TRUMPETER  OF  SACKINGEK 


Conradin. 

O  sainted  Ftidoline! 
What  damage  thou  hast  wrought, 
A  highborn  damsel  truly — 
And  a  gay  young  bugler  newly — 

It  hadn't  ought  ! 

Chorus. 

O  sainted  Fridoline ! 
To  thee  our  woes  we  bring, 


And  comfort  from  thee  borrow; 
And  if  in  joy  or  sorrow. 
Thy  praises  sing. 

Wei'iier. 

O  fairest  Margaretha! 

Thy  charms  henceforth  I'll  sing! 

By  they  eyes'  sunlight  captur'd 

I  stand  before  thee  raptur'd 

By  Love  and  Spring  ! 

(The  procession  moves  towards  the  church.) 


Cf)e  fouu&tiig  of  Sttcftingen. 

By  Victor  von  Scheffel. 


Leave  thy  vain  lametttings,  mother; — 
■Celtic  blood  drives  me  to  seek  jiiy 
Labor  in  far  distant  country. 
In  my  dreams  I've  of  tot  gazed  on 
Foreign  land  and  foreign  tnoittitaitis, 
'Mid  a  stream  a  bright  green  islatid — 
Beautiful  as  our  fair  Erin — 
Thither  points  the  Master's  finger, 
Thitlier  goes  thy  Fridolin.  *  *  * 

From  the  Jura's  heights  descejided 
Fridolin,  then  wandered  onward^ 
Up  the  Rhine,  rejoicing  in  the 
Youthful  river's  rush  and  clamor. 
Eve7iing  'twas,  and  many  a  weary 
League  the  pious  man  had  waiidered. 
When  he  saw  how  that  the  stream  in 
Tivo  broad  channels  flowed,  divided. 
Past  a  green,  inviting  islatid. 
{Like  a  sack  it  lay  upon  the 
River's  surface,  and  the  peasants 
Dwelling  near,  whose  similes  are 
Not  at  all  times  deftly  chosen, 
Gave  the  isle  the  fiame  Saccoiiium.) 
Evening  'twas,  the  larks  were  sifiging, 
In  the  stream  the  fish  sprang  swiftly, 
And  the  heart  of  Fridolin  was 
3lade  with  gladness  overflowing. 
On  his  knees  he  sank  in  prayer — 
For  he  recognized  the  island 
That  in  dreams  had  been  revealed  him, 
And  he  thajiked  the  Lord  above.  *  *  * 

Scarce  a  year  had  passed,  the  Sabbath 
Feast  of  Palms  it  was,  and  from  the 
Alountains  all  around,  and  valleys. 
Came  the  yillemanian  peasants. 
And  the  children,  smiting,  brought  th 
Aged  man  the  firstling  flowers — 
And  they  placed  them  as  a  symbol 
Of  their  love  before  his  dwelling. 

From  his  hut  emerged  the  pious 
Fridolin,  in  priestly  raiment. 
And  he  led  the  goodly  host  of 
These  converted  to  the  rivet-' s 
Bank,  and  in  the  rustling  waters 
Gave  them  baptism  in  the  najne  of 
Father,  Son  and  Holy  Ghost.  *  *  * 
And  that  very  day  he  bravely 
Laid,  in  prayer,  the  good  fomidation 
Of  the  cloister  a?id  the  city — 
Attd  his  work  progressed  and  flourish' d, 


Round  about,  in  every  valley. 
Honor' d  was  his  name  attd  holy. 

Once,  indeed,  when  he  returned  to 
Paris,  to  the  court  of  Clovis, 
At  his  right  the  monarch  placed  him. 
And  in  solemn  gift  he  gave  him 
All  the  island,  atid  nmch  land  as 
Bounty  for  the  church  a?id  cloister. 
Yea,  he  was  a  man  most  holy — 
And  to  day  as  patron  saint  he 
Holds  the  highest  place  of  honor; 
On  the  Rhine,  and  in  the  mountains. 
To  this  time  the  peasatit's  first  born 
^oy  is  christcfied  Fridolini, 


Saint  Jfrtboline's  ^roc^ssion. 

Warm,ly  shone  the  sun  of  March  on 
Folk  and  tow7i  of  Fridolini  : 
Softly  from  the  Minster  sounded 
Solcm  organ  tones,  as  IVertier 
Rode  befieath  the  ancient  gateway. 
Hastening,  first  he  sought  good  stabling 
For  his  steed :  the7i  turn'd  his  footstep 
Up  towards  the  grey  stone  cloister. 
At  whose  doors,  with  head  uncover' d. 
Stood,  the  while  the  fair  procession 
Passed  in  ratik  and  file  before  him. 

In  the  dreadful  days  of  warfare, 

Iti  the  days  oftieed,  the  casket 

Holding  all  the  sacred  relics 

Of  Saint  Fridoline  were  guarded 

Well  in  Laufenburg'  s  great  fortress; 

Often  had  the  townsfolk  sorely 

Missed  their  ever-blessing  presence. 

Then:  and  now  when  peace  reign' d  sweetly 

O'er  the  land,  t/iey  all  endeavor' d 

Piously,  with  newer  zeal  to 

Hold  the  Saint  in  greater  honor, — 

Opening  the  long  procession. 

Came  a  troop  of  lovely  children,^ 

Glad  of  heart,  with  faces  beaumig; 

But  whene'er  they  play' d  and  frolick'd. 

Came  the  grey  haired,  earnest  teacher, 

CJiiding  them  for  their  behavior: 

Still!    No  laughter!  little  people. 

Have  good  care :  such  ivanton  prattle 

Makes  our  Fridolini  atigiy : 


THE  TRUMPETER   OF  SACKINGEN. 


Conradin. 

O,  heil'ger  Fridoline, 
Was  hast  du  angericht't! 
Ein  Friiulein  den  Trompeter — 
Das  sieht  doch  wohl  ein  Jeder: 
Das  geht  doch  nicht! 

Chor. 
O,  heil'ger  Fridoline, 
Du  Schutz  der  Christenheit, 


Gieb  Liebe  unsern  Herzen 
Und  sei  in  Lust  und  Schmerzen 
Gebenedeit! 

Werner. 
Maria,  o  Maria, 
Du  wundersame  Maid, 
Aus  deines  Auges  Sonne 
Lacht  nun  erst  mir  die  Wonne 
Der  FrLihlingszeit. 

(Der  Zwischen-Vorhang  fallt.) 


hm\\  efdDofiiie's  JTroccssioii. 

By  Victor  von  Scheffel. 


He' s  a  Saitti  tnost  stern  and  worthy. 
And  in  heaveit  will  all  remember. 

Twelve  fair  youths  then  bore  the  coffin. 
Richly  dec/I'd  with  gold  and  silver: 
This  contahied  the  saintly  relics. 
Bore  it  on — all  singing  softly: 
Thou,  who  dwellst  in  Heaven  above  us. 
Look  in  grace  upan  our  city. 
Keep  it  in  thy  care  for  ever — 

Fridolifii  !  Fridolini  ! 
Give  us  always  thy  protectioji, 
Fro-tn  all  dangers  aye  preserve  us. 
War  and  pestilence  ivardfrom  us — 
Fridolini  !  T'ridolini  / 

Follow' d  then  the  worthy  dean, 
And  the  chaplains,  taper-bearhig  : 
Came  the  portly  burgomaster ; 
And  the  wisdom' d  city  fathers, 
And  the  other  dignitaries — 
Bailiff  and  the  city  steward. 
Syndic,  notary  and  proctor, 
Afid  the  rugged  forest-ranger, 
{He  had  co}ne  from  pure  decorutn. 
For.  with  chicrches  and  processions 
And  such  things  he  did  not  stand  on 
Genial  footing,  and  his  prayers 
Liked  to  say  best  in  the  forest). 
Theji  i?i  gloomy  Spanish  nia?itle. 
On  which  shone  the  white-cross  emblem,. 
Came  the  members  of  the  a7icient 
Order  of  the  Ktiights  Teuto7iic. 
Then  the  dark-clad,  earnest-visaged 
Noble  ladies  from  the  cloister ; 
Foremost,  near  the  sky-blue  banner 
Walked  the  aged  Princess- Abbess, 
Aftd  she  thought :  Oh  Fridolini, 
Art  a  Saitit,  most  dear  arid preciotis. 
But  one  thing  thou  canst  not  bring  us 
Back — the  time  of  youth,  the  golden. 
Sweet  it  was  some  fifty  years  back. 
When  the  cheeks  like  roses  blossomed, 
Atid  by  our  youthful  gloivhtg  glances 
Many  a  noble  knight  held  captive. 
Long  ejwjigh  have  L  do7ie  penance 
Ln  it  all:  and  hope  ifi  truth  that 
All  our  sins  may  be  forgiven. 
V/rinkles  noiu  my  face  have  furrow'  d. 
Sunk  the  cheeks  are  ;  lips  are  wither' d. 
And  my  teeth  have  gone  for  ever. 


Following  the  noble  ladies 

Came  the  wives  of  worthy  burghers, 

Matrons  closed  up  this  division.  *  *  * 

And  as  meadow  flowers  blossom 

Sweetly  'mid  the  barren  stubble, 

After  thefn  a  host  of  charming 

Maidens,  clad  in  while  and  festal 

Raiment,  folloiued :  mafty  a  burgher. 

Staid  and  solemn,  zuatch'd  them  passing 

In  their  beauty,  and  he  murmui-' d : 

"  Ware  thee  well  their  witching  gla7ices, — 

Such  fair  host  is  quite  as  dang'rous 

As  a  motmted  Swedish  squadron." 

In  advance  was  borne  Madonna's 

Statue ;  it  was  clad  in  heavy 

Gold-embroidered,  pmple  raiment, 

That  in  thanks,  because  the  dreadful 

War  was  etided,  they  had  given  as 

Votive  offerittg ,  with  their  prayers. 

As  the  fourth  in  this  divisioft 

Walk'd  a  blonde  and  slejider  maiden, 

Iti  her  hair  a  bunch  of  violets  ; 

O'er  its  gold  a  snow  white  veil  fell. 

Hiding  half  her  lovely  features 

Like  a  winter' s  frost  that  glistens 

On  the  early  springtime  rosebud. 

Scarcely  lifting  up  her  glances 

From  the  grotind,  she  -bass' d  the  portal 

Where  Young  Wa-ner  stood ; — he  sazv  her;- 

Was  it p'rhcips  the  sun's  bright  gleaming. 

Meet  his  eyes  so  sorely  blended? — 

Or  the  blonde  young  viatden's  beauty? 

Many  other  maids  pass' d  by  him, 
But  he  saw  them  not — his  gaze  still 
Lingered  on  the  fourth  one  only  : 
Gazed  atid  gazed,  and  when  the  people 
Disappear'  d  around  the  corner. 
Gazed  yet  on,  as  if  he  still  could 
See  the  fourth  iii  the  procession. 
"  That  man's  got  it!  "  says  the  proverb 
Thereabouts  of  that  condition, 
When  Love's  magic  holds  one  spellbound, 
'  Tis  not  man  that  holds  Love  captive  ; 
No — 'tis  Love,  that  has  possession. 
Guard  thee  well,  viy  youthful  ITeivter, 
Joy  and  sorrow  hides  the  proverb  : 
"  That  man's  got  it!  " — He's  in  love ! 


S^fjc  3SttroR  anb  tfte  ^uofer. 


eKn    eKpai'l'meat    la    tKe    Sharon    >9oa    ^cRoenau't^    C^aniitfe. 


FOURTH    SCENE, 

The  Baron. 

O  lightning!   Now  another  bout, 
With  this  accursed  family  gout — 
Quite  en  regie  he  makes  the  attack, 
And  soon  the  foe  is  on  his  back: — 
He  first  sends  out,  in  skirmish  line, 
His  tirailleurs  with  fell  design; 
Then  come  the  fighting  columns  strong, 
Oh!  oh!  no  man  can  hold  out  long. 
And  now  with  cannon  shot  and  grape 
They  knock  the  fortress  out  of  shape; 
They  storm  the  outworks,  now  the  gate, — 
Piff,  paff — I — capitulate. 

Ah!    Now's  a  truce  to  my  distress, 
A  prisoner  I  am  natheless! 
Some  people  have  such  notions  queer. 
And  at  podagra  smile  and  sneer; 
And  hint  at  what  I  dare  to  scout, — 
That  Rhinewine  such,  is  good  for  gout  I 
'Tis  true  I've  always  had — tut!  tut! — 
Of  every  Rhinewine-year  a  butt 

Or  two  down  in  the  cellar, 
That  I  have  tasted  morn  and  night. 
To  find  in  each  year's  new  delight, 

And  most  in  Muscatella! 

Yes,  that  is  now  my  fav'rite  wine, 
And  e'er  will  be,  O  foe  malign. 
And  will  so  long  as  life  is  mine; 
And  when  my  ills  I  can  not  weather, 
Then  I  shall  fold  my  hands  together, 
And  say,  v/hile  waits  the  despot  grim: 
"Once  more  a  bumper,  to  the  brim, 
Of  my  good  Muscatella  wine!  " 

O  podagra,  o  chiragra, 
Your  pranks  were  over  then,  tralla! 
And  that's  a  comfort  just  to  know 
That  when  he  comes  we  both  must  go. 
(A  Servant  brings  a  letter.) 


The  Baron. 
(Opening  a  letter.) 

From  my  old  friend,Count  Wildensteint 
Just  give  his  man  a  glass  of  wine. 
And  I  will  give  him  answer. 
Hm!  what  is  it  ?     (Reads.) 

"Dear  old  friend! 
My  good  spouse  is  dead  and  buried. 
And  that  ancient  feud  I  had 
With  the  Countess,  thy  good  cousin, 
Who  was  my  first  wedded  partner. 
Ere  I  die,  I'd  like  to  settle!  " 

(To  himself.) 

Bravo!  Bravo!    That  is  noble! 
Know  my  brave  old  friend  on  that! 
Ah,  he  was  a  comrade  worthy! 

(Reads  further.) 

"Hope  that  she  will  now  forgive  me. 
Though  I  from  my  castle  sent  her, 
When  she  let  our  son  be  kidnapped. 
As  he  in  the  garden  gambol'd." 
(Looking  out  over  the  paper.) 
Women  soon  forget  their  sorrows; 
Often  saw  the  Countess  weeping, 
When  of  Wildenstein  I  gossip'd. 

(Reads  further.) 

"Out  should  die  no  noble  race, 
Therefore  is  my  plan  as  follows: 
You — have  got  a  winsome  daughter. 
And  I  have — an  only  son, 
Both  of  blood  and  noble  breeding; 
And  I  think  it  needs  no  pleading. 
That  you  to  my  plan  be  won: 
Visit  you,  I  think,  we  ought  to, 
And  let  Damian  win  your  daughter.'* 

Donner-vetter!  That's  emphatic. 
And  therewith  quite  diplomatic — 


10 


©er  cfreifjerr  uiiD  Der  g^rompeier. 


^a-y   ^ivnvix-zz/  hcA   cFreilVe^'M't-  xk>w   ScnowcH/C^. 


VIERTE  SCENE. 
Der  Freihe7-r. 

Da  schlage  doch  das  Wetter  d'rein, 
In  das  verdammte  Zipperlein, 
Dass  ich  mit  meineni  Hinkefuss 
Nun  hier  im  Lehnstuhl  sitzen  muss. 
Es  gab  wohl  eine  schone  Zeit, 
Da  war  es  anders  noch  als  heut'; — 
Da  jagt'  ich  durch  die  weite  Welt, 
Flinic  wie  der  Hirsch  durch's  Aehrenfeld, 
Und  manches  holde  Aeugelein 
Das  winkte  hell  wie  Scmnenschein 
Von  feme  schon  dem  Reitersmann — 
Doch  heut' — was  fang'  ich  heute  an  ? 
Da  ward  der  alte  Lehnstuhl  mir 
Zum  unfreiwilligen  Quartier. 

Es  meint  wohl  mancher  lasterlich — 

Und  das  ist  doch  ganz  liicherlich! 

Das  sollt'  vom  Wein  gekommen  sein, — 

Der  Hinkefuss  von  solchem  Wein! 

's  war  freilich  stets  mein  stilles  Gliick, 

Von  jeder  Rheinweinsort'  ein  Stiick 

Zu  seh'n  in  meinem  Keller, 

Und  zu  probiren  friih  und  split, 

Wie  es  mit  jedem  Jahrgang  steht — 

Zumal  bei'm  Muskateller! 

Das  ist  nun  'mal  mein  Ueblingswein 
Und  wird's  trotz  dir,  o  Zipperlein, 
Bis  an  mein  sel'ges  Ende  sein — 
Bis  an  mein  sel'ges  Ende! — 
Dann  fait'  ich  still  die  Hiinde 
Und  sag':  "Es  muss  geschieden  sein, 
Schenkt  nochmals  Muskateller  ein!  " 
O  Podagra,  o  Chiragra, 
Dann  ist  es  auch  mit  euch  tralla! 
Das  bleibt  mein  Trost  in  dieser  Welt, 
Wenn's  noch  mit  mir  so  schlecht  bestellt! 
(Ein  Diener  bringt  einen  Brief.) 


Der  Freiherr 
(erbricht  den  Brief). 

Das  kommt  vom  Grafen  Wildenstein!- 
Lass'  mir  den  Boten  selbst  herein, 
Die  Antwort  ihm  zu  sagen. 

(Diener  ab.) 
Hm!  was  will  er?       (licst). 

"Alter  Freund! 
Meine  Frau  is  jiingst  gestorben, 
Und  ich  v/ill  den  alten  Streit 
Mit  der  Grafin,  deiner  Schwiig'rin, 
Die  mein  erst  Gemahl  gewesen, 
Noch  vor  meinem  Ende  schlichten!  " 

(Fiir  sich.) 
Bravo!  Bravo!   das  is  redlich! 
Kenne  d'ran  den  bieder'n  Freund 
Und  den  alten  Kameraden! 

(Liest  weiter.) 
"  Hoffe,  dass  sie  nicht  mehr  zifrnt, 
Weil  ich  damals  sie  verstossen, 
Als  sie  sich  den  Sohn  Hess  rauben 
Aus  dem  Schlosspark,  wo  er  spielte." 

(Ueber  das  Blatt  hinweg.) 
Nein,  die  Frauen  sind  versohnlich; — 
Sah  schon  oft  die  Arme  weinen, 
Wenn  ich  sprach  vom  Wildensteiner. 

(Liest  weiter.) 
"  Ausgeh'n  darf  kein  edler  Stamm! 
Darum  macht'  ich  mir  ein  Planchenl— 
Sag',  du  hast  doch  eine  Tochter, 
Und  ich  habe  einen  Sohn; — 
Beide  sind  von  gutem  Adel 
Und  gewiss  d'rum  ohne  Tadel, 
Und  ich  dachte  lange  schon, 
Wenn  ich  nun  mit  Damian  kame 
Und  der  deine  Tochter  niihme?" 

Donnerwetter! — kurz,  soldatisch 
Und  dabei  doch  diplomatisch — 


10 


THE  TRUMPETER   OF  SACKINGEN. 


Well,  I'm  with  him! — Hip — hurrah! 
Would  not  such  a  union  bar! 

(Springs  up  suddenly  from  his  chair,  forgetting 

his  gout.     To  the  messenger  from  the  Count  of 

Wildenstein,  who  has  again  entered): 

Ride  straight  back  to  the  Danube's  vale, 
Greet  my  old  friend  without  fault  or  fail; 
And  tell  him  I  his  letter  treasure, 
And  that  his  proposal's  a  pleasure. 
And  tell  him,  I'm  sorry  I  could  not  write, 
Because  the  gout  has  crippled  me  quite; 
He'd  best  arrive  on  the  first  of  May, 
My  birthday — let  him  remember: 
I  want  to  make  it  a  festal  day, 
For  mine,  of  May  and  September: 
For  all  I've  got  a  grand  surprise, — 
But  wisdom  in  discretion  lies. 
(The  messenger  leaves.) 

To  the  Schloss  comes  a  wooer 
Of  unblemish'd  blood; 

The  fete  will,  I'm  sure. 
Be  three  times  as  good. 

Ye  halls,  long  so  dreary, 

Soon  opened  be  wide, 
To  welcome  give,  cheery, 

To  bridegroom  and  bride! 


FIFTH    SCENE. 
Margaretha  and  the  Countess,  with  the  Former 

Margaretha. 

Chide  me  not,  my  dearest  father, 
That  we  left  you  all  so  lonely. 

Freiherr. 

Such  a  day  as  this  I'd  rather 
You  enjoyed  the  sunshine;  only 
Want  my  pipe,  when  out  you  sally; 
It  helps  one  his  thoughts  to  rally — 
And  you  pray'd  to  Fridoline  ? 

Co7mtcss. 

Truly:  and  it  might  have  been 
That  you  never  more  had  seen  us, 
For  the  Hauensteiner  peasant, 
Your  old  foes,  had  e'en  the  meanness 
There  to  make  things  quite  unpleasant. 

The  Baron. 

Insolence!    The  worthless  wretches! 
Soon    they'll     know    how    much    rope 

stretches! 


They  shall  know  that  frightening  ladies 
Ouite  a  mighty  dangerous  trade  is! 
ad  I  not  this  dreadful  gout, 

I  would  make  the  rascals  shout. 

Ah!  some  young  fresh  blood  is  wanted 
Here,  to  make  the  old  stock  strong! 
Daughter — do  not  wait  too  long — 
A  protector,  here  transplanted! 

Margaretha. 

Father,  dear  one,  we  can  find  one. 
Quicker  than  you  now  imagine! 

The  Baron. 

Rebels  round  about  and  dangers, 
And  too  scant  the  walls'  defenders. 
Can  not  even  give  a  signal, — 
If  they  came  and  us  attack'd, — 
To  my  brave  ones  in  the  city, 
To  my  faithful  band  of  troopers; 
For  my  good  old  castle  bugler, 
Poor  old  Rassmann,  grand  old  fellow, 
Home  has  gone  to  greet  his  fathers. 
And  deserted — I  am  here! 

Margaretha  (roguishly). 

O,  a  splendid  castle  bugler, 
I  know,  father,  where  to  find! 

Countess. 

Mean  you  him,  who  in  the  city, 
'Gainst  the  peasants  gave  us  ward? 

Margaretha. 

Yes,  dear  guardian,  it  is  he, 

He  our  castle-bugler  be! 

He's  a  player  just  for  you  fitted. 

Coutitess. 

No,  dear  cousin,  list  to  me: 
To  our  noble  house  should  he 
Never  by  us  be  admitted! 

The  Baron. 

Bah!  the  gift  of  bugle-blowing 
Is  not  learnt  in  halls  ancestral; 
If  the  man  us  well  can  serve, 
Needs  no  'scutcheon  if  he's  nerve! 

Coutitess. 

Nay,  dear  cousin,  list  to  me, 
He  would  scarcely  suited  be! 


11 


THE  TRUMPETER  OF  SACKING  EN. 


Das  gef;illt  mir!  Hei — juchhei! 
Ei,  da  bin  ich  gleich  dabei ! 
(Springt  vor  Freude  vom  Stuhle  auf,  fasst  aber 
nach  seinem  Fuss  und  schreit :  "Au!  jaso!" 
da  ihn  der  heftige  Schmerz  wieder  an's  Podagra 
erinnert;  dann  zum  Boten,  der  inzwischen  einge- 
treten  ist.) 

So  reite  zurlick  in  dein  Donauthal 
Und  griisse  den  Freund  mir   viel   tau- 

sendmal, 
Und  sag  ihm,  er  moge  nur  kommen, 
Sein  Antrag  sei  angenommen! 
Und  sag'  ihm,  ich  konnt'  es  ihm  schrei- 

ben  nicht, 
Weil  meine  Rechte  lahmte  die  Gicht: 
Doch  mog'  er  just  am  ersten  Mai, 
Zu  meinem  Geburtstag,  erscheinen, 
Dass  dadurch  um  so  grosser  sei 
Die  Freude  fur  die  Meinen, 
Die  ich  dann  iiberraschen  will: 
D'rum  schweig'  mir  liber  Alles  still! 
(Der  Bote  ab.) 

In's  Schloss  kommt  ein  Freier 
Vom  griiflichen  Blut, 
Da  schmeckt  mir's  zur  Feier 
Noch  einmal  so  gut! 

Ihr  einsamen  Riiume, 
Bald  kehrt  each  zuriick 
Statt  alternder  Trauma 
Nun  briiutliches  Gliick. 


FUENFTE   SCENE 
Maria  und  die  Grafin  zum  Vorigen. 

Maria. 
Ziirne  nicht,  mein  Vaterchen, 
Dass  wir  dich  allein  gelassen. 

Freiherr. 
Nein,  ich  hab  indess  mein  Pfeifchen 
Recht  von  Herzen  dampfen  lassen. 
Weiss  ja  schon,  each  Frauenzimmer 
Sieht  man  wiederkehren  nimmer, 
Liess  man  euch  zum  Feste  gehn. 

Griififi. 
Freilich  konnt'  es  leicht  gescheh'n, 
Dass  ihr  nimmer  uns  gesehen; 
Denn  die  Hauensteiner  Bauern, 
Die  mit  Euch  im  Zwiste  stehen, 
Schienen  uns  dort  aufzulauern. 

Freiherr. 

Dies  Gesindel  —  diese  Bande! 
Hal  das  ist  doch  eine  Schande! 


Nicht  die  Frauen  auf  den  Gassen 
Mehr  in  Sicherheit  zu  lassen! 
Hatt'  ich  nicht  das  Zipperlein, 
Haut'  ich  heut'  noch  auf  sie  ein. 

Ach,  wie  fehlt  dem  alten  Stamme 
Doch  so  sehr  ein  frisches  Reis!  — 
Tochterchen,  's  wird  hohe  Zeit, 
Einen  Schirmherrn  dir  zu  suchen. 

Maria. 

Vaterchen,  der  wird  sich  finden;  — 
Vielleicht  schneller,  als  wir's  ahnen! 

Freiherr. 

Rings  Emporung,  droh'n  Gefahren 
Uns  im  schwach  besetzten  Schlosse. 
Kann  nicht  mal  ein  Zeichen  geben, 
Wenn  man  uns  hier  iiberfiel, 
Den  Verbiindeten  im  Stiidtchen, 
Meiner  alten  Soldnerrotte; 
Denn  mein  treuer  Schlosstrompeter, 
Der  mir  oft  die  Grillen  wegblieSj 
Ging  auch  jLingst  zu  seinen  Vatern, 
Und  verlassen  sitz'  ich  hier. 

Maria. 

Einen  priichtigen  Trompeter 
Wiisst'  ich,  Vaterchen,  fiir  dich! 

Grafin. 

Meinst  doch  den  nicht,  der  beim  Fest 
Vor  den  Bauern  uns  beschiitzt  ? 

Maria. 

Ja,  Frau  Base,  er  allein 

Soil  hier  Schlosstrompeter  sein! 

's  ist  ein  Spielmann  ohne  Tadel. 

Grafin. 

Nein,  Herr  Schwager,  folget  mir! 
Der  passt  ganz  und  gar  nicht  hier 
In  dies  Haus  von  altem  Adel. 

Freiherr. 

Ei,  das  Blasen  der  Signale 
Lernt  man  nicht  im  Ahnensaale; 
Dient  uns  redlich  nur  der  Mann, 
Was  geht  uns  sein  Wappen  an  ? 

Grafin. 

Nein,  Herr  Schwager,  folget  mir: 
Der  passt  ganz  und  gar  nicht  hier. 


11 


THE  TRUMPETER   OF  SACKINGEN. 


Margaretha. 
Father  dear,  indeed — 

Countess. 
O,  heed ! 

Margaretha. 

He  were  best,  right  well  I  know; 
Ah,  so  handsome  is  he  too, — 
He  must  come;  it  must  be  so! 

Cou7itess. 

No,  dear  cousin, — no,  no,  no  ! 
My  good  sister,  with  the  sainted, 
Sad  were,  if  with  this  acquainted. 

The  Baron  (to  the  Countess). 

Small  the  thanks,  to  him  you  offer. 
Who,  to  save  you,  bravely  stood; 

Strange — old  Rassman  too  could  proffer 
Once  to  shed  for  me  his  blood; 

He,  a  bugler,  too — emotion 

Deep  awakes  such  rare  devotion! 
(He  lifts  the  glass.) 

Bugler  Rassmann,  here's  to  thee! 
(Sound  of  a  bugle  heard  in  the  distance.) 

Ha!  who  plays  there  down  by  the  Rhine  ? 

Sounds  as  if  he,  though  long  ago  buried, 

Play'd as  he  rode  at  thehead  of  theserried! 

Margaretha, 

The  handsome  young  player,  I'm  sure, 

it  must  be! 

Coutitess. 

The  forward  young  bugler,  I'm  sure,  it 

must  be! 

Afargaretha 
(looking  out  of  the  window). 

'Tis  he!    'Tis  he!    I  shall  now   see   him 

daily. 

With  the  plume  in  his  hat  nodding  grace- 
ful and  gaily. 

•f)OW  prou&  anD  gran5  bis  bearing, 

Ibe'e  noble  too,  5  linow ; 
^bougb  but  a  bugler  Daring— 

%\\X>  set  %  love  bim  so. 

II. 

Bn£)  baD  be  castles  sepen, 
Ibe  couID  not  comeller  be. 

Bn&  iset  5  wouID  to  beaven, 

tlbat  just  some  otbec  were  be  I 


III. 

©  woulD  tbat  be  were  a  IRltter, 
B  kulgbt  of  tbe  ^Fleece  of  (5olD ! 

©  Xove,  tbou  art  so  bitter— 
©  Xove,  bow  sweet  tbs  bolD ! 

Now   up   the   steps    to   the   garden   he 

springs! 

Baron. 

So  bid  he  come  hither;  we'll  see  what  he 

brings! 
(Margaretha  has  hastened  out  of  the  door.) 

Countess. 

Nay,  beware,  O  noble  cousin, 
Such  a  young  and  handsome  man 
Take  not  recklessly  in  service, — 
First  of  all  his  merits  scan. 

Baron. 

Truly,  truly,  worthy  aunt. 
He  must  be  just  what  I  want; 
'Tis  not  every  stray-musician 
Fitted  is  for  such  position. 

Countess. 

That  he's  young,  I  much  deplore. 

Baron. 

Go,  pray  trouble  me  no  more. 

Countess. 

If  you're  thus  all  reason  past, 
P'rhaps  you'll  have  to  feel,  at  last. 

Margaretha. 

Father,  see,  he's  here!  he's  here! 
Up  the  stairway  springing; 
.  I  hear  his  sabre  on  the  steps 
With  every  footstep  ringing. 


SIXTH    SCENE. 

(Werner  appears.) 
Margaretha  (to  herself). 

Ha,  he's  there!    O  rapture  dearest! 
Ah,  by  storm  my  heart  he  took! 
Is  it  thanks,  or  love  exulting, 
That  he  v/akens  with  his  look  ? 

Wertier  (to  himself). 

Ha — she  there!    O  wondrous  beauty! 
Beams  on  me  refulgent  light  ? 


13 


THE  TRUMPETER  OF  SACKINGEN. 


Maria. 
Viiterchen,  glaub'  mir! 
Grdfin. 

Glaubt  mir! 

Maria. 

Nur  zum  Besten  rath'  ich  dir. 
Ach,  er  ist  so  nett  und  fein  — 
Der  muss  dein  Trompeter  sein! 

Grdfin. 

Nein,  Herr  Schwager,  nein,  nein,  nein! 
Meine  Schwester,  die  hochselig, 
argerte  gewiss  sicli  schmahlicli. 

Freihcrr  (zur  Gnifin). 

Wenig  Dank  wisst  ihr  dem  Retter, 
Der  Euch  barg  vor  Bauernwuth. 
Seltsam!  einst,  im  Schlachtenwetter, 
Opferte  sein  treues  Blut 
Auch  ein  Spielmann  mir  —  auf's  Neue 
Denk'  ich  heute  seiner  Treue! 

(Er  erhebt  das  Glas.) 
Spielmannstreue  lebe  hoch! 

(Trompete  aus  der  Feme.) 
Ha!  wer  blast  dort  unten  am  Rhein  ? 
Das  klingt  ja,  als  Avollte  noch  unter  dem 

Rasen 
Mein    Schlosstrompeter  sein  Leibstiick 

mir  blasen! 

Maria. 

Das  kann  nur  der   hiibsche  Trompeter 

sein! 
Grdfin. 

Das  kann  nur  der  kecke  Trompeter  sein? 

Maria 
(blickt  durch's  Fenster). 

Er  ist's!  -  er  ist's!  Ich  erkenne  ihn  wieder! 
Schwer  nickt  ilim  die  Feder  vom  Hute 

nieder. 
I. 

Mie  stol3  imD  stattltcb  cjebt  er ! 

'^iz  aDUcb  izl  <6Z\\\  jSButb  ! 
]6r  ii3t  nuv  ein  Q;rompeter, 

lUnD  Docb  bin  \z\b  ibm  gut. 

II. 

TUn?  batr  er  sieben  Scblosser, 
Br  eab'  nicbt  0cbmucfter  Oreln,  — 

Scb  0ott,  unD  &ocb  war's  besser, 
®r  vvUr&'  ein  BnO'rer  eein ! 


III. 

Bcb  war*  er  Docb  ein  IRltter, 
Bin  IRltter  vom  golD'nen  IDIiess! 

©  Xieb,  wie  biet  &u  bitter, 
®  l.ieb,  wte  bist  Du  giiss ! 

Vater,    jetzt  naht    er   des  Schlossparks 

Stufen! 

Freiherr. 

To  sende   hinunter   und   lass'  ihn    mir 

rufen! 
(Maria  ist  zur  Thiir  hinausgeeilt.) 

Grdfin. 

Aber,  aber,  mein  Herr  Schwager, 
Solchen  fremden  jungen  Mann 
Nelimt  nicht  gleich  in  Eure  Dienste  — 
Seht  ihn  Euch  erst  niiher  an, 

Freiherr. 

Freilich,  freilich,  Schwagerin, 
Miisst'  er  sein  nach  meinem  Sinn; 
Denn  zu  meinem  Schlosstrompeter 
Passt  in  unsrer  Zeit  nicht  Jeder. 

Grdfin. 
Viel  zu  jung  ist  er  dazu. 

Freiherr. 

Ach,  das  lasst  mich  wohl  in  Ruh'. 

Gi  dfin. 

Na,  wenn  Ihr  nicht  horen  wollt, 
Ihr  vielleicht  nocli  flihlen  soUt. 

Mai'ia. 

Vaterchen,  er  kommt! — er  kommt 
Schon  herauf  die  Treppen; 
Hore  auf  den  Stufen 
Seinen  Degen  schleppen. 


SECHSTE  SCENE. 

(Werner  ist  inzwischen  zu   den  Vorigsn  einge- 
treten.) 

Maria  (fiir  sich). 

Ha,  da  ist  er!     Welche  Freude! 
Ach,  wie  klopft  mein  Herz  so  laut! 
Ist  es  Dank  nur,  ist  es  Liebe, 
Dass  es  jubelt,  wenn's  ilm  schaut? 

Werner  (fiir  sich). 

Ha,  da  ist  sie!     Welche  Schonheit! 
Blendet  mich  der  Sonne  Liclit  ? 


13 


THE  TRUMPETER   OF  SACKINGEN 


Never  saw  I  such  enchantment, 
Never  countenance  so  bright! 

The  Baron  (to  himself). 

Ha,  he's  here!    Now  form  in  squadrons! 
He's  a  handsome  youth,  forsooth! 
Eyes  of  fire  and  heart  to  venture — 
Just  the  proper  sort,  in  truth. 

Countess  (to  herself). 

Ha,  he's  there!   What  boldness  truly! 
If  I  do  not  intervene. 
Sure  my  cousin  will  berue  it — 
Bugler  such  was  never  seen. 

Werner. 

My  colonel,  you  bade  me  hither; — 
I  followed  quickly  your  command! 

Tlie  Baron. 

From  harm  these  noble  ladies 
Right  gallantly  you  saved; 
For  them  your  life  endangered 
And  threats  of  cowards  brav'd; — 
My  thanks! 

Werner. 

My  colonel,  thank  me  not, 
I  did  my  duty,  as  I  ought. 

The  Baron. 

Such  modesty  and  bravery 
Together  we  don't  often  see; 
How  comes  it,  bugler,  thus  to  pass  ? 
Well — seat  you  near  me- — sweet,  a  glass! 

Mai  garetha. 
And  with  it  drink  good  fortune! 

The  Baron. 
With  this  I  bid  yovi  welcome! 

Werner. 

You  give  me  hearty  welcome, 

A  stranger  to  you  here; 
Through  north  and  south  I  wandered, 

A  restless  cavalier. 
In  southland  fragrant  blossoms. 

In  northland  ice  and  snow, 
But  my  own  heart  has  ever 

Known  nought  but  yearning's  woe. 
And  what  I  sought,  foreboding. 

In  all  the  world  around; 
At  last  in  this  fair  land  I 

With  my  own  eyes  have  found. 


The  Baron. 

I'm  mighty  glad  that  our  fair  Rhine 
Doth  please  you — 'tis  a  land  divine;— 
But  to  the  point  at  once  let's  come, 
Altho'  at  speech  I'm  lumbersome; 
I  need  a  castle-bugler  steady; 
My  last,  we  bore  him  to  his  grave- 
Not  every  one  would  I  be  ready 
To  take,  for  what  I  from  him  crave: 
Not  only  must  the  alarm  be  sounded. 
When  dangers  grave  are  round  this  way; 
In  other  things  must  be  well  grounded, — 
For  example,  and  for  extra  pay: 
Make  music  to  my  daughter's  singing, 
Her  notes  in  order  nicely  stringing. 

Werner. 

In  truth,  good  sir,  I  much  deplore, 
My  days  of  writing  long  are  o'er; 
Have  only  horse  and  sabre  worn, 
And  never  a  pen  have  my  fingers  borne 
Since  I  as  student  was  sent  away. 

Baron. 
A  student,  you?    The  deuce  you  say! 

Werne): 
At  Heidelberg. 

Baron. 

Well  done! 
And  knew  you  well  the  giant  tun? 
And  is  there  wine  yet  in  its  well  ? 
And   then    the   Princess  ? — I   pray  you, 

tell! 
Werner. 

The   Electress  shines  like  a  diamond's 

gleam; 
And  the  wine   flows   out   in   a   golden 

stream. 
Baron. 

It  must  be  still  glorious  in   Heidelberg 

sooth ! 
Wern  er. 

In  truth! 
®I&  IfoeiOelberg,  tbou  ffairest, 

IHIlitb  tame  anO  bonor's  crown'D, 
'/iftiD  rivals  tbou  tbe  rarest, 

G^be  IRbine  or  IReckai*  'round  1 

The  Baron. 

Just  my  idea! — A  capital  song! 
That  lingers  in  the  memory  long! 


13 


TEE  TRUMPETER   OF  SACKINGEN. 


Niemals  sah  von  solcher  Anmuth 
Leuchten  ich  ein  Angesicht! 

FreiJm'r  (fur  sich). 

Ha,  da  ist  er!     Kreuz  Schwadronen, 
's  ist  ein  iiiibscher  Bursch'  furwahr! 
Glutli  im  Auge,  Muth  im  Herzen, 
Wie's  einst  meine  Sorte  war! 

Grcifin  (fiir  sich). 

Ha,  da  ist  er!     Welche  Kiihnheit! 
Bis  in's  Schloss  verfolgt  er  sie ! — 
Ach!  mein  Schwager  wird's  bereuen: 
Solchen  Spielmann  sah  ich  nie. 

Werner. 
Herr  Oberst,  Ihr  liesset  mich  rufen; — 
Ich  folgte  Eurem  Befehl! 

Freiherr. 

Ihr  habt  diese  beiden  Damen, 

Die  von  den  Bauern  bedroht, 

Als  sie  zum  Feste  kamen, 

Recht  brav  beschiitzt  in  der  Noth; — 

Nehmt  Dank! 

Werner. 

Herr  Oberst,  dankt  mir  nicht! 
Das  war  nicht  niehr  als  Mannespflicht. 

Freiherr. 

Bescheidenheit  und  Tapferkeit 
Sind  nicht  beisammen  jederzeit: 
Herr  Spielmann,  wohl  gefiillt  mir  das! 
Kommt,  setzt  Euch  zu  mir! — Kind,  ein 

Glas. 
Maria. 

Lasst  Euch  den  Trunk  bekommen! 

Freiherr. 

Ja,  seid  bei  uns  willkommen! 

Werner. 

Ihr  heisset  mich  willkommen — 
Ein  Fremdling  bin  ich  hier, 
Unstlit  im  Siid'  und  Norden 
Durchstreift'  ich  das  Revier. 

Im  Sliden  Duft  und  Bliithen, 
Im  Norden  Eis  und  Schnee, 
Doch  iiberall  im  Herzen 
Der  Sehnsucht  stilles  Weh. 

Was  ahnungsvoll  ich  suchte, 
Und  dennoch  nirgends  fand, 
Sah  endlich  nun  mein  Auge 
In  diesem  schonen  Land. 


Freiherr. 

Ich  freue  mich,  dass  Euch  die  Welt 
Am  Rheine  hier  bei  uns  gefiillt; — 
D'rum  kommen  wir  'mal  gleich  zum  Ziel, 
Denn  wisst,  ich  rede  nicht  gern  viel! — 
Ich  brauche  einen  Schlosstrompeter — 
Mein  alter  sank  mir  jiingst  in's  Grab; 
Doch  kann,  mein  junger  Freund,  nicht 

Jeder, 
Was  ich  fiir  ihn  zu  schaffen  hab'. 

Wird  nicht  nur  allarmiren  miissen, 
Wenn  diesem  Schloss  Gefahren  drohn, 
Muss  audi  noch  manches  Andre  wissen: 
Zum  Beispiel,  oft  fiir  Extralohn 
Mubik  mit  meiner  Tochter  treiben, 
Und  zierlich   fiir  sie  Noten   schreiben. 

Werner. 

Fiirwahr,  Herr,  das  bedaur'  ich  sehr: 
Allein  ich  bin  kein  Schreiber  mehr. 
Hab'  nur  noch  Ross  und  Schwert  gefiihrt, 
Und  keine  Feder  angeriihrt, 
Seit  als  Student  ich  relegirt. 

Freiherr. 
Potz  Element!  Ihr  habt  studirt? 


Werner. 


Zu  Heidelberg. 

Freiherr. 

Ei  was? 
War  auch  mal  dort  beim  grossen  Fass! 
Erzahlt  mir  doch:  ist    noch  viel    drin  ? 
Und  wie  geht's  Eurer  Frau  Kurflirstin  ? 

Werner. 

Die  Kurfiirstin  gUinzt  wie  ein  Edelstein, 
Und  goldig  fliesst  aus  dem   Fasse    der 

Wein. 

Freiherr. 

Da  muss  es  noch  herrlich   zu    Heidel- 
berg sein! 

Werner. 

Gewiss! 
Bit  IbeiOclberg,  Du  fefnc, 

H)ii  StaOt,  an  Bbren  reicb,  — 
Bni  IRcchar  unD  am  IRbcine 

IRein*  anDrc  kommt  Mr  glelcb! 

Freiherr. 

Das  mein'  ich  auch!— Ein  schones  Lied! 
Wie  Rebengriin  lacht's  in's  Gemiith! 


18 


THE  TRUMPETER   OF  SACKINGEN. 


You  seem  to  hold  in  honor  just 
Your  science  like  a  true  musician. 
And  certainly  my  daughter  must 
Much  profit  by  your  wise  tuition. 

Werner. 
Nay,  noble  sir — 'tis  too  much  praise! 

The  Baron. 
But  yet  the  bugler  with  us  stays  ? 

Werner. 

Margaretha! — I  must  fate  obey! 
I  must! — I  cannot  go  away! 

Countess  (aside). 

Ha!  Tell  me  what  their  glances  say? 
Who  now  can  all  the  mischief  stay  ? 

Margaretha  (aside). 

'Tis  well  to  Fridoline  to  pray, 
He  answers  with  this  joy  to-day. 

T/ie  Baron. 

So  drink  ! — Conclude  with  us  to  stay, 
And  now  a  stirring  tune  just  play. 

Werner. 

Yea,  noble  sir,  so  let  it  be — 
I'll  be  your  castle-bugler  free! 


T/ie  Baron. 

Give  me  your  hand,  my  friend,  agree — 
Our  castle  bugler  now  to  be! 

Margaretha. 

O  what  delight!    Yes,  they  agree! 
Our  castle  bugler  he  will  be! — 

Countess. 

Alas!  Alas!    And  they  agree; 
The  castle  bugler  he's  to  be! 

Baron,  Werner  and  Margaretha. 

All  hail,  thou  glorious,  highest  Art — 
With  us  again  to  take  thy  part; — 
Here  in  our  castle  o^lorious 
Shalt  thou  now  reign  victorious. 
Thy  praises  sound  shall  near  and  far — 
All  hail!  All  hail!  Dame  Musica! 

Countess. 

O  do  not  trust  the  bugler's  art: 
With  women  oft  it  played  its  part, — 

As  in  the  past  notorious. 

It  will  be  now  victorious; 
And  every  wrong,  done  near  and  far, 
Was  wrought  through  this  Dame  Musica! 


END    OF    THE    FIRST  ACT. 


14 


THE  TRUMPETER  OF  SACKINGEN. 


Ihr  scheint  als  echter  Musikant 
Frau  Musica  mir  hoch  zu  ehren 
Und  werdet  sicher  recht  gewandt 
Darin  auch  nun  mein  Kind  belehren. 

Wertier. 
Ach,  edler  Herr,  Ihr  ehrt  mich  sehr — 

Freiherr. 
Und  doch  wird  Euch  das  Jawort  schwer  ? 

Werfier. 

Maria!     O,  welch'  susses  Gliick! 

Ich  muss! — Ich  kann  nicht  mehr  zuriick! 

Grdfin  (fiir  sich). 

Ha!    welches  Gliick  in   ihrem  Blick; — 
Umsonst  beschwor  ich  das  Geschick! 

Maria  (fiir  sich). 

Weiht'  ihm  ein  schon'  Dukatenstiick, 
D'rum  bringt  Sanct  Fridolin  mir  Gliick! 

Freiherr. 

Stosst   an!     entschliesst    Euch   auf  gut 

Gliick; 
Schon  klang  m.ir  Euer  Probestiick! 

Werner. 
Wohl,   edler  Herr,  ich  geh'  d'rauf  ein, 
Will  Euer  Schlosstrompeter  sein. 


Freiherr. 

Schlag',  junger  Spielmann,   nun  d'rauf 

ein: 
SoUst  unser  Schlosstrompeter  sein. 

Maria. 

Ach'  welches  Gliick!  Er  geht  d'rauf  ein, 
Will  unser  Schlosstrompeter  sein! 

Grdfin. 

O  weh,  o  weh!     Er  geht  d'rauf  ein 
Und  will   hier  Schlosstrompeter  sein! 

Freiherr,   Werner  jind  Maria. 

Heil  dir,  du  holde  Spielmannskunst, 
Zeig'  uns  von  Neuem  deine  Gunst; — 
Im  Schlosse  hier,  im  alien, 
Soil  nun  dein  Zauber  walten; 
Und  wieder  ton'  es  fern'  und  nah': 
Heil  dir,  Heil  dir,  Frau  Musica! 

Grdfin. 

O  trauet  nicht  der  Spielmannskunst, 
Stets  warb  sie  um  der  Frauen  Gunst, 
Und  wie  einst  bei  uns  Alien, 
Wird  sie's  auch  jetzt  noch  halten. 
An  allem  Ungliick,  das  geschah, 
Trug  stets  die  Schuld  Frau  Musica! 


ENDE  DES    ERSTEN     AKTES. 


14 


ACT   II. 


in  tRe  (S^arcjea  of  tRe  S^aroalaf  (^a(«)tfe. 


FIRST  SCENE. 

Werner  is  seated  at  the  table  in  the  garden-house, 
composing, 

Werner. 

Ves,  that  was  right! — Yes,  that  will  do — 
And  quickly  down  all  be  written; 
From  every  note  full  well  I  know 
How  deeply  the  man  is  smitten — 

I. 

©n  sbore  5  plag'D  me  a  merr^  tune, 
Z,\)Z  trumpet  epee&eD  It  glaMg, 

Straight  to  tbe  Scbloss,  but  in  tbe  storm 
Q;be  tones  got  mijeD  up  baMg. 

II. 

XTbe  MaterslR^mpb  in  tbe  river's  Deptbs 
l^earD  storm  anD  music  growling ; 

Sbe  rose  above,  an&  tain  woulD  learn 
^be  reason  qX  all  tbe  bowling ! 

2ln&  wben  sbe  Dove  to  tbe  &eptbs  again— 

Nay,  that  sounds  horrid,  surely, 
Must  give  the  chords  in  another  key, 
Or  else  it  is  discord  purely. 

III. 

BnD  wben  sbe  &ove  to  tbe  Oeptbs  again, 
$be  tolD  tbe  tisbes  witb  laugbter : 

©  IRbinestream  cbilDren,  sou  Don't  Dream 
tibe  tollies  tbat  men  fig  atter.— 

IV. 

©ne  sits  up  tbere  in  tbe  storm  anD  rain, 
Wbat  tbini?  ^ou  tbat  be's  Doing  ? 

1be  plass  tor  ever  tbe  selfssame  tune, 
G;be  tune  ot  bis  own  maD  wooing. 


Conradin  (appears). 

How  such  a  trooper  musicus, 

Even  as  emeritus, 

For  mankind  must  stew  and  fuss. 

Werner. 

Bright  good  morning,  Conradin! 
Tell  me  what  you'd  fain  begin. 

Conradin 

Why,    don't     you     see  ?—  Don't     know 

what's  up  ? — 
To  ask  that  the  Baron,  for  our  troop. 
To  its  cradle  fete,  as  is  custom  Rhenish, 
With    wine    our    May-day    feast    shall 

plenish; 
With  every  kind  of  sport  and  fun 
Each  year  the  festival  is  done. 

Werner. 

Oh,  yes!  To-day's  the  first  of  May 
And  our  good  master's  natal  day. 

Conradin. 

Methinks  that  here  you're  nicely  fix'd — 
Forgot  that  you  ever  with  us  folks  mix'd. 

Werner 

Could  I  but  know  if  the  Fates  were  Avill'd 
To  see  my  highest  hopes  fulfill'd: — 

I. 

Mben  tbee  5  saw  tbe  first  glaD  time, 
^S  tbougbts  stuck  fast  in  telling ; 

J6ut  all  ms  bopes  tbemselves  resolveD, 
5n  tunetul  accents  swelling. 


16 


ZWEITER  AKT. 


TUcmer  imO  Maria. 


I'VH'    ^a/&tc4i/     hi2/y     iz.c4^c/!yiXicrv0'n'    ^cm/u>»»c<>. 


ERSTE  SCENE. 

Werner. 

So  Avird  es  recht! — nur  weiter  so — 
Und  rasch  auch  niedergeschrieben; 
Aus  jeder  Note  erkenn'  ich  froh 
Das  Lied  von  meinem  Lieben. 

I. 

Bm  lafec  biles  icb  cln  lustlg  Stucft, 
Mte  l^lang  5ic  alte  tlrompete 

Ibell  (n  ben  Sturm,  Der  Das  ©cton 
£um  Ibcrrenscbloss  verwcbte  I 

II. 

mc  Massertrau  im  tfetcn  (BrunD 
Ibort  Sturm  unD  ^one  rauscben, 

$ie  6tei0t  beraut,  neugierig  will 
2)tc  Q;onc  sie  erlauscben. 

■QlnD  als  sie  wieOer  binabgetaucbt  — 
■ClnD  als  sie  wieDer  binabgetaucbt  — 

Das  will  mir  noch  nicht  klingen, 
Muss  die  Accorde  gleich  einmal 
In  and're  Lage  bringen. 

III. 

"OnJ)  als  sie  wie&er  binabgetaucbt, 
Brsablt  sie  Den  3Fiscben  mit  ILacben : 

**  ©  IRbeinesMn&er,  man  erlebt 
Docb  souDerbarlicbe  $acben : 

IV. 

Sit3t  oben  einer  im  IRegensturm ; 

Wlas  glaubt  Jbr,  Dass  er  triebe  1 
—  JSlast  immersu  Dasselbe  XieD, 

Das  XieO  von  seiner  Xiebe." 


Coiiradin  (tritt  auf). 

Was  solch'  alter  Musikus 
Selbst  noch  als  Emeritus 
Fiir  die  Menschheit  leisten  muss! 

Werner. 

Guten  Morgen,  Conradin! 

Sag',  mein  Freund,  wo  willst  du    hin  ? 

Conradin. 

Siehst  du's  denn  nicht  ?  —  Ich  will  ins 

Schloss, 
Vom  gniid'gen  Herrn  fiir  unsern  Tross 
Beim  Wiegenfest  nach  rhein'schen   Sit- 

ten 
Den  Wein  zum  Maifest  zu  erbitten, 
Das  er  mit  Spielen  mancherlei 
Uns  hier  alljahrlich  feiern  lUsst. 

Werner. 

Ach  ja,  heut'  ist  der  erste  Mai 

Und  uns'res  Herrn  Geburtstagsfest. 

Conradin. 

Mir  scheint,  du  bist  hier  so  begluckt, 
Dass  du  der  ganzen  Welt  entrtickt. 

Werner. 

Wiisst  ich  nur  erst  gewiss  und  klar, 
Ob  meine  schonste  Hoffnung  wahr. 

I. 

"dnO  als  icb  3«m  ersten  /iRal  Oicb  sab, 

Derstummten  mcinc  THaorte, 
Bs  loste  all  mcin  Denken  sicb 

3^n  scbvvellenDe  BccorDe. 


15 


THE  TRUMPETER   OF  SACKINGEN. 


II, 

anJ)  bere  5  stanD,  a  bugler  poor,— 
Cbc  moat— 5  cannot  jump  tt— 

5  cannot  6ai3  tbee  wbat  ^  will,— 
BnD  senD  mg  love  per  trumpet. 

Conradin 

Nay,  strike  me  lightning  as  I  stand — 
They  know  it  well  throughout  tlie  land: 
When  fire  breaks  out  it  sends  up  blazes, — 
A  maiden's  fiery  glance,  I'll  own, 
A  hot  commotion  often  raises. 

Werner. 

For'sure!    But  we  are  ne'er  alone — 
All  her  gracious  aunt  opposes — 
Everywhere  her  precious  nose  is — 
And  here  she  comes  again . . . 

Conradin. 

Let  me  arrange  it. 


SECOND  SCENE. 
(Margaretha  and  the  Countess  appear.) 

Margaretha. 

I've  made  you  wait  I'm  much  afraid; 

Forgive  me  if  I  kept  you  long — 

And  have  you  brought   me  what    you 

said: — 
Thought  out  for  me  a  nice  new  song  ? 

Werner. 

Here,  Fraulein,  'tis,  but  not  quite  ready — 
Friend  Conradin  disturb'd  the  work. 

Margaretha. 

Yes,  like  this  it  was  most  truly — 

As  here  in  black  and  white  writ  duly: 

©n  sbore  3^  pla^eD  me  a  merrs  tune, 
Ube  trumpet  speeDcO  it  olaMg 

Straigbt  to  tbe  Scbloss,  *but  in  tbe  storm 
Q;be  tones  got  mijeD  up  baOlg. 

Countess. 
Hand  here  and  let  me  too  peruse  it. 

Conradin 
(trying  to  get  the  Countess  away). 

Dear  Countess — but  for  my  sake  do — 
The  Baron  sure  will  give  through  you 
The  wine  for  the  fete — I  pray,be  gracious! 


Countess. 

Do  it  yourself!    'Tis  too  audacious — 
I  have  no  time — till  here  I'm  through. 

Conradin. 

Well,  if  it  must  be — Donnerwetter 
(Goes  to  the  castle.) 

Countess. 

Nothing  p'r'aps  could  suit  them  better — 
From  the  scene  thus  quick  to  get  her! 
Know  the  oroverb,  What  the  mousies 
Do  whene'er  the  cat  from  house  is; 
They  dance  and  they  gambol 
They  sing  as  they  ramble, 
And  woo  and  stray 
And  coo  and  play 
At  kissing! 

Werner  and  Margaretha. 

Nothing  p'r'aps  could  suit  us  better — 
From  the  scene  away  to  get  her! 
Know  the  proverb,  What  the  mousies 
Do  whene'er  the  cat  from  house  is; 
They  dance  and  they  gambol, 
They  sing  as  they  ramble, 
And  woo  and  stray. 
And  coo  and  play 
At  kissing! 

Cotmtess. 

But,  my  good  musician, 
It  were  better,  in  tuition, 
That  the  teacher  should  a  bit 
Further  from  his  pupil  sit. 

Werner. 

Countess,  'tis  the  best  position; 
Else  where  is  your  harmony  ? 

Conradin 
(returning  from  the  castle). 
Heaven  be  prais'd!  O  victory!  (loud): 
Dear  Countess,  the  Baron  wants  a  dragon 
To  watch  us  well 
When  we  our  flagon 
Shall  fill  in  the  cellar 
With  Muscatella; 
Therefore  he  asks 
You  with  us  go — 
For  'tis  his  favorite  wiiie,you  know. — 

Countess. 

With  you  go — 

Oh,  this  too  cruel  blow! 


16 


THE  TRUMPETER   OF  SACKINGEN. 


II. 

D'rum  steb  fcb  arm  XLvompctctlcin 
/iftusicircnD  auf  Dem  IRasen, 
Ikann  &(r  nicbt  sagen,  was  icb  will, 
Ikann  meine  %icl>'  nur  blasen! 

Cojiradln. 

Da  schlage  doch  das  Wetter  d'rein, 
Es  leuchtet  doch  wohl  Jedem  ein: 
Wenns  Feuer  brennt,   dann   schlagt  es 

Flammen. 
Bist  mit  dem  schonen  Schlossfriiulein 
Doch  nun  schon   manchen  Tag  zusam- 

men. 

Werner. 

Gewiss!  doch  nie  sind  wir  allein  ; 
Denn  ihre  gniidigste  Frau  Base 
Steckt  hier  in  AUes  ihre  Nase. 
Dort  kommt  sie  schon  wieder. . . . 

Conradln. 
Lass  mich  nur  machen ! 


ZWEITE  SCENE. 
Marie  und  die  Grafin  zu  den  Vorigen. 

Maria. 

Ihr  habt  gewiss  schon  mein  geharrt  ;  — 
Verzeiht,  dass  es  so  lange  ward  ! 
Habt  Ihr  mir  auch,  wie  Ihr's  versprach't, 
Ein  hiibsches  neues  Lied  erdacht  ? 

Werner. 

Hier,    Friiulein,    ist's,   doch   nicht  ganz 

fertig  ;  — 
Freund  Conradin  hat  mich  gestort. 

Maria. 

Gerade  so  ist  es  gewesen, 

Wie  hier  im  ersten  Vers  zu  lesen  : 

Bm  "Glfer  blics  icb  ein  lusticjes  StUcft, 
TlClic  hlang  Die  alte  tTrompete 
Ibell  in  &en  Sturm,  &er  das  0et6n 
2;um  1berrenscblO60  verwebte. 

Grafin. 
Zeig'  her  und  lass  mich  auch  mal  lesen  ! 

Conradin, 

Frau  Grafin,  thut  es  mir  zu  Lieb 
Und  bittet  unsern  Herrn  von  mir, 
Den  Wein  zum   Fest  uns  zu  gewiihren. 


Grafin. 

Den  kann  Er  selbst  von  ihm  begehren  ! 
Hab'  keine  Zeit  —  ich  bleibe  hier  ! 

Conradin. 

Nun,  wenn  es  sein  muss  —  meinetwegen! 
(Ab  ins  Schloss. ) 

Grafin. 

Wohl  war'  ihnen  das  gelegen, 
Wich  ich  plotzlich  hier  vom  Platze ; 
Doch  was  thaten  einst  die  Mause, 
Als  spazieren  ging  die  Katze? 
Sie  tanzten  und  sprangen, 
Juchhei'ten  und  sangen, 
Und  liebten  sich, 
Und  iibten  sich 
Im  Kiissen. 

Werner  und  Maria. 

Ach,  wie  kam'  es  uns  gelegen, 
Wich  die  Alte  jetzt  vom  Platze  ; 
Doch  sie  denkt  wohl  an  die  Mause, 
Als  spazieren  ging  die  Katze  : 
Sie  tanzten  und  sprangen, 
Juchhei'ten  und  sangen, 
Und  liebten  sich, 
Und  iibten  sich 
Im  Kiissen. 

Grafin. 

Doch,  Herr  Schlosstrom peter, 
Muss  beim  Unterricht  denn  jeder 
Lehrer  gar  so  dicht  und  nah 
Sitzen  bei  der  Schiil'rin  da  ? 

Werner. 
Ja,  Frau  Grafin,  das  muss  Jeder  ; 
Sonst  giebt's  keine  Harmonie. 

Conradin 
Kommt  wieder  aus  dem  Sclilosszuriick,  bei  Seite 

Gott  sei  Dank,  jetzt  hab'  ich  sie  ! 

(laut:) 
Frau  Grafin,  der  Herr  lasst  euch  bitten, 

Dabei  zu  sein, 

Wenn  wir  die  Biitten 

Uns  fiillen  im  Keller 

Mit  Muskateller, 

Denn  nicht  allein 

Lasst  er  uns  ein  : 
Ihr  wisst,  es  ist  sein  Lieblingswein  ! 

Grafin  (in  Verlegenheit). 

Ich  —  ich  —  ich  ? 
Das  ist  doch  iirgerlich  ! 


16 


THE  TRUMPETER    OF  SACKINGEK 


Countess. 

Nothing  p'r'aps  could  suit  them  better, 

etc. 

Conradm,  Werner  and  Margaretha. 

Nothing,  sure,  could  suit  us  better,  etc. 

(Conradin  and  the  Countess  leave.) 


THIRD  SCENE. 

Werner  and  Margaretha. 

Let  Heaven  be  prais'd!    We  are  alone — 
At  last  alone,  to  dream  and  story; 
Here  'neath  the  spready  chestnuts'  glory, 
At  last  we  are  alone — alone! — 

Wej-ner. 

Sun,  has  thy  light  not  grown  in  splendor? 

Heav'n,  is  thy  vault  not  deeper  blue  ? 
Dost  joy  supreme  to  me  surrender. 

Blest  world  of  Springtime,  born  anew! 
O  gladsome  life,  in  blossom'd  story! 
O  joys  of  May,  in  sunlit  glory! 
The  music  of  a  thousand  voices, 

From  every  flower  and  every  tree, — 
Tells  not  how  deep  my  heart  rejoices, 

What  glorious  wealth  I  find  in  thee! 

Margaretha. 

Heaven  be  prais'd,  O  Werner,  lov'd  one — 
Parted  all  too  long  were  we: 

Yet  no  minute  passed,  believe  me. 

That  my  thoughts  were  not  with  thee! 
When  I  saw  thee  at  the  fete, 
Found  my  heart  at  once  its  mate ! 
Didst  thou  in  my  eyes  discover 
How  the  lov'd  one  sought  the  lover  ? 
Never  rapture  came  like  mine. 
Life  and  love  and  bliss  divine! 

Werner. 
I. 

"Wihcn  ffrst  5  saw  tbcc  passing  bg, 
'G;was  /llbarcb  tbe  sijtb,  ^  minD  me: 

a  bolt  flasb'D  from  tbe  clouOIess  s,\vq, 
Mitb  mtgbt  enougb  to  blluD  me ! 

II. 

^^  beart  (t  struck  and  scorcb'D  to  rust, 

an&  left  no  particle  over : 
JSut  iv^slike  grew  from  tbe  Dust 

tibe  name  of  one  anO— 5  love  berl 


Margaretha. 

Mean  you  mine,  O  Werner  ?   Tell  me  I 

Werner. 

Yes,  the  name  was  thine,  O  Margaretha! 

Countess 
(at  the  cellar  door). 
Margaretha! 

Margaretha. 
Aunty! 

Countess. 
Music  stop'd!    Say  what  the  cause  is  ? 

Margaretha. 

We've  just  come  to  all  the  rest-notes. — 
Many  long  and  splendid  pauses. 

Countess. 

Yes,  I  hear  them — kind  o'  jest-notes, — 
Wait,  I  can't  allow  all  this — 
(She  goes  down  to  the  cellar  again.) 

Werner  and  Margaretha. 

Ah!    Too  brief,  alas,  our  bliss! 

(A  deputation  of  Hauenstein  peasants  crosses 
the  stage,  gesticulating  violently.  They  enter  the 
castle). 

Margaretha. 

Lo — gone  the  clouds  of  angry  weather! 

Murmurs  now  the  morning  breeze: 
Whispering  that  we  twain,  together, 

May  a  while  be  at  our  ease. 
Nothing  more  have  we  to  fear  us, 
If  we  play  and  let  her  hear  us. 

Werner. 

Margaretha!    We  must  mind  us! 
Some  good  plan  of  action  find  us: 
Let  us  not  delay  the  singing. 
Now  our  thoughts  on  music  winging; 
So  the  aunt  will  ne'er  discover 
What  Love  whispers  to  the  lover. 

Margaretha. 

Sweet  thy  songs,  and  woven  in  them 
All  my  thoughts  and  all  my  stress, 

Let  me  sink  myself  within  them, 

And  with  them  my  love  confess. 

Every  word's  deep,  hallow'd  glory 
Streams  on  me  as  from  above, 

Sweetly  sounds  the  blissful  story 
In  thy  songs  to  me,  O  Love! 


17 


THE  TRUMPETER  OF  SAC  KIN  GEN. 


Grdfin. 

(wie  oben.) 

Das  kommt  ihnen  wohl  gelegen,  —  etc. 

Conradin,  Werner  unci  Maria. 

Ei,  das  kam  uns  recht  gelegen  —  etc 
(Conradin  und  die  Grafin  ab.) 


DRITTE  SCENE. 

Werner  und  Maria. 

Gott  sei  gedankt,  wir  sind  allein, 
Zum  erstenmal  mit  unsern  Triiumen, 
Hier,  unter  diesen  griinen  Baumen, 
Zum  erstenmal  allein  —  allein !  — 

Scheinst  du  nicht  heisser,  Gottessonne  ? 
Lachst  du  nicht  biauer,   Himmelszelt  ? 
Ach  !    warst  du  jemals  so  voll  Wonne, 
Du  bliithenweisse  Friihlingswelt  ?  — 
Der  Blumen  Geist  und  neues  Leben, 
Des  Maien  Duft,  des  Lenzes  Weben, 
Was  dort  so  siiss  die  Bienen  saugen 
Aus  blUhendem  Kastanienzweig, 
Lacht  mir  aus  deinen  holden  Augen 
Und  macht  mich  unermesslich  reich. 

Maria 

Gott  sei  Dank,  Herr  Werner  —  lange 
Waren  beide  wir  bewacht, 
Doch  zu  jeder  Stunde  hab'  ich 
Treulich  nur  an  Euch  gedacht ;  — 
Seit  ich  Euch  beim  Feste  fand, 
War  mein  Herz  Euch  zugewandt. 
Konnt's  wohl  in  den  Augen  lesen, 
Was  Ihr  mir  seitdem  gewesen  : 
Leben,  Liebe,  Gliick  und  Traum  — 
Ach,  die  Wonne  fass'  ich  kaum  ! 

Werner^ 

I. 

Bis  icb  3unt  erstenmal  Xi\c\i  sab, 
Bs  war  am  secbstcn  /lRar5e, 
Da  fubr  c\\\  "MiXs  aus  biauer  Xutt 
ItJersengeuD  in  mein  1ber3e, 

II. 

Ibat  Bir  verbrannt,  was  &rinnen  stanD, 
Bs  ist  mir  nicbts  geblieben, 
S>ocb  epbeugleicb  wacbst  aus  Dcm  Scbutt 
2)er  IRame  metner  Xieben, 


Maria. 
Meinst  du  meinen  Namen,  Werner  ? 

Werner 
Deinen  Namen  siiss,  Maria!  o  Maria! 

Grdfi7i  (in  der  Kellerthiir). 


Maria ! 


Maria. 


Baschen ! 

Grdfin. 
Hor'  euch  gar  nicht  musiciren  ! 

Maria. 

Bin  gerade  beim  Pausiren  — 
Lauter  lange,  schone  Pausen. 

Grdfin. 

Ja,  das  h5r'  ich,  Kind,  mit  Grausen  ; 
Wart',  ich  komme  gleich  zuriick  ! 

Werner  und  Maria, 
Ach,  das  war'  ein  kurzes  Gliick  ! 

Maria. 

Seht,  voriiber  zog  das  Wetter, 
Und  es  rauscht  der  Morgenwind 
Wie  zur  Mahnung  durch  die  Bllitter, 
Dass  allein  wir  wieder  sind. 
Nun  soil  sie  uns  nicht  mehr  stciren, 
Wollen  uns  nur  angehoren, 

Werner. 

Friiulein,  Fraulein!  Avelch  Beginnen  ! 
Nein,  da  gilt's  auf  List  zu  sinnen  : 
Lasst  die  Laute  weiterklingen, 
Was  wir  plaudern,  lasst  uns  singen  ; 
Dann  wird  Baschen  nimmer  spiiren, 
Wie  so  siiss  wir  musiciren. 

Maria. 

All  mein  Lieben,  all  mein  Denken 
Weht  durch  deine  Lieder  nur  ! 
Darf  ich  mich  in  die  versenken, 
Folg'  ich  eig'ner  Liebe  Spur ; 
Denn  es  strahlt  wie  Morgenrothe 
Jedes  liebe  Wort  mich  an, 
Siiss,  wie  eine  Hirtenflote, 
Klingt  dein  Lied  mir,  trauter  Mann ! 


17 


THE  TRUMPETER   OF  SACKINGEN. 


Werner. 

Can  it  be,  O  Margaretha  ? 
Lovest  me,  because  of  song  ? 

Margaretha. 

I  love  thee,  aye,  and  need  not  borrow 
Aid  from  song  or  music's  art. 

I  love  thee,  aye,  in  joy  and  sorrow, 

I  love  thee,  love,  with  all  my  heart! 

Werner. 

O  what  bliss  dost  thou  impart! 

Both. 

For  each  other  living  wholly, 

That  is  happiness  divine: 
With  each  other  finding  solely 

Love's  supremest  rapture  holy — 
Thine,  beloved — ever  thine! 


FOURTH  SCENE. 

(The   Countess   and    Conradin    appear,    coming 
from  the  cellar.) 

Coimtess. 

To  help!    To  help!    What  must  I  see  ? 

Conradin. 
What  monstrous  horror  can  it  be  ? 

Coufitess. 
There,  my  niece — the  daring  bugler! 

Conradin. 

Aye,  object  to — mighty  few  girls 
Kisses  kissed  by  a  man  that  bugles! 

Countess. 

She  has  in  his  net  been  caught, 
And  has  surely  quite  forgot 
That  her  'scutcheon's  free  from  blot: 
And  honors  high  await  her. 

Margaretha. 
Dearest  Aunty: 

Countess. 

Margaretha: 
O  yes,  put  a  smiling  face  on — 

Margaretha. 
Dearest  aunt,  'twas  in  the  lesson! 

Werner  and  Conradin. 
Truly,  it  was  in  the  lesson! 


FIFTH  SCENE. 
(The  Former.  The  Baron.   Hauenstein  Peasants.) 

Countess. 

Oh  yes,  'twas  quite  too  pastoral, 
I'll  keep  no  longer  silence. 

Just  wait  a  while,  my  cousin  shall 
Kick  out  such  base  beguilance 

Margaretha. 

But  not  just  now — my  dearest  aunty — 
Do  not  spoil  the  birthday  fete. 

Werner  and  Conradin. 

But  not  just  now — O  graciousCountess — 
Do  not  spoil  the  birthday  fete. 

The  Baron 
(to  the  peasants). 

Wait  a  while,  my  son-in-law 

Soon  shall  show  you  who's  the  master! 

The  Peasants. 

Not  a  tax  can  you  e'er  claw 

On  the  Rhine — and  therewith  basta! 

The  Baron. 

Grape  and  bullet's  what  you  lack,  sirs, — 
Medicine  the  very  best. 

The  Peasants. 

There'll  be  work  for  pike  and  axes, 
On  your  crazy  robber's  nest! 

The  Baron. 

Off,  ye  sowherds. 

The  Peasants. 

Curse  you,  cowards! 
Make  your  doors  a  little  faster. 
For  the  servants  with  their  master 
Soon  into  our  hands  shall  fall! 
Then  death  to  all! 

llie  Baron. 

If  you  in  their  hands  shall  fall — 
Then  death  to  all! 

Coimtess 
(to  the  Baron). 

First  attend  to  your  relations — 
Bad  is  riot,  worse  is  stealth! 
Youthful  folk  must  well  be  warded, 
I  have  told  you  oft  before! 


18 


THE  TRUMPETER   OF  SACKING  EN. 


Werner. 

Wiir'  es  moglich,  o  Maria? 
Liebtest  mich  in  meiner  Kunst? 

Maria. 

Ich  liebe  dich  von  ganzem  Herzen, 
Nicht,  wie  du  glaubst,  nur  deine  Kunst, — 
Ich  liebe  dich  in  Lust  und  Schmerzen, 
Aus  tiefster  Seele  lieb'  ich  dich! 

Werner. 
Welch'  Gliick,  Maria,  welche  Gunst ! 

Beide. 
So  mit  ganzer  Seele  lieben, 
Das  ist  Seligkeit  aliein  ;  — 
Das  aliein  ist  Gliick,  ist  Leben, 
Spricht  das  Herz  mit  Wonnebeben  : 
Dein    Geliebter  (Geliebte),  ewig  dein! 


VIERTE  SCENE. 
Die  Grafin  mit  Conradin  aus  der  Kellerthiir. 

Grdfin. 
Zu  Hilfe!  Zu  Hilfe!  Was  muss  ich  sehn? 

Conradin. 
Ja,  Ungeheures  ist  geschehn! 

Grdfin. 
Meine  Nichte  —  ein  Trompeter. 

Conradin. 

Gniidigste  glaubt  mir:  nicht  Jeder 
Kiisst  so  sLiss  wie  ein  Trompeter. 

Grdfin. 

Ich  erlag  nur  Seiner  List  !  — 
Und  die  Nichte,  die  vergisst, 
Dass  sie  Edelfriiulein  ist. 
Soil  es  schwer  mir  biissen. 

Maria. 
Liebes  Biischen  ! 

Grdfin. 
Lass  dein  Naschen 
Kiinftig  mir  von  solchen  Dingen. 

Maria. 
Es  gehorte  ja  zum  Singen  ! 

Werner  und  Conradin. 
Freilich,  das  gehort  zum  Singen! 


FUENFTE  SCENE. 
Die  Vorigen.     Der  Freiherr.     Bauern. 

Grdfin. 

Das  wird  mir  denn  doch  zu  toll, 
Und  ich  werde  nichts  verschweigen  ;  — 
Wartet  nur,  mein  Schwager  soil 
Euch  die  Lehrmethode  zeigen! 

Maria. 

Nur  nicht  jetzt  gleich,  liebes  Biischen  ! 
Nehmet  Riicksicht  auf  sein  Fest ! 

Werner  und  Conradin. 

Nur  nicht  jetzt  gleich,  gniid'ge  Grafin  ! 
Nehmt  doch  Riicksicht  auf  sein  Fest! 
gleichzeitig. 

Freiherr. 

Wartet  nur,  mein  Eidam  soil 
Euch  die  Herrenrechte  zeigen! 

Die  Bauern. 

Nicht  die  Steuer,  nicht  der  Zoll 
Auf  dem  Rhein  ist  Euer  eigen! 

Freiherr. 

Mit  Karthaunen  werd'  ich  fiittern 
Den,  der  mir  mein  Recht  nicht  liisst. 

Die  Bauern. 

Dann  soil  uns're  Axt  zersplittern 
Dieses  stolze  Herrennest, 

Der  Freiherr. 
Fort,  ihr  Bauern! 

Die  Bauern. 

Priift  die  Mauern, 

Eure  Thore  lasst  vergittern. 

Wie  den  Knechten,  ireht's  den  Rittern  : 

Fallen  sie  in  unsre  Hiinde, 

Ist's  ihr  Ende  ! 

Der  Freiherr. 

Fallt  ihr  ihnen  in  die  Hande, 
Ist's  eu'r  Ende ! 

Grdfin. 

Ach,  was  musste  hier  passiren,  — 
Schwager,  ich  war  nicht  dran  schuld  ! 
Junges  Volk  will  stets  bewacht  sein, 
Hab'  Euch  oft  genug  gewarnt. 


18 


THE  TRUMPETER  OF  SACKINGEN, 


The  Others. 

Noble  Sir —       )  ^  i  ,.•       i 

■rj.  ^y  ■  \  conQ;ratulations! 

leather,  mine —  \         ^ 

Wishing  you  long  life  and  health! 

Be  your  ways  by  Heaven  guarded 

Be  no  ills  for  you  in  store. 

The  Baron. 

Thanks,  dear  people,  for  this  pleasure  ! 
Your  good  wishes  I  shall  treasure — 

But  this  rattle 

And  this  prattle — 
Quite  enough  we've  had,  I'm  sure 
And  much  more  I  can't  endure! 

Countess. 

Cousin!  Oh,  I'm  quite  upset! 
What  I  saw  I'll  ne'er  forget — 
Quite  enough  my  nerves  to  shatter! 

The  Baron. 
Pray,  then,  tell  me  what's  the  matter. 

Countess. 

Yon  audacious  trumpetist 

Hath  your  noble  daughter  kiss'd! 

The  Baron. 

The  musician! 

Then  perdition. 

If  such  fever's 

Got  in  his  brain, 

He  must  leave  us, 
That  is  plain — 
Or  first  let  him  cool 
Off  in  yonder  pool! 

Werner. 

My  Colonel — Do  I  this  deserve  ? 

Margaretha. 
This,  father,  he  does  not  deserve! 

Couradin. 
Now,  truly,  he  will  want  his  nerve. 

The  Baron. 

Think  you?    Well — I'll  speak  right  out, 
I  don't  mumble  round  about. 
Sorry  he  must  be  rejected — 

Have  a  son-in-law  in  view 
From  our  own  high  rank  selected 
And  to-day  he's  here  expected. 
And,  dear  cousin,  furthermore, 
I've  a  treat  for  you  in  store. 

(To  Werner,  sharply.) 
Let  each  keep  to  his  class  away — 
Who  bugler  is  must  bugler  stay  ! 


SIXTH    SCENE. 
QUINTETTE. 

Margaretha. 

Must  so  soon  the  sunshine  vanish  ? 

Shall  another  wooer  be  mine  ? 
Would  they  from  me  Werner  banish  ? 

Has  my  father  such  design  1 
Never,  never 
Can  they  sever 

Hearts  that  know  this  love  divine! 
No  and  no!  For  love  unending 

Must  such  love  as  ours  be; 
And  tho'  great  be  my  offending, 

Werner,  I  will  think  of  thee! 

Werner. 

Must  so  soon  the  sunshine  vanish? 

Shall  another  wooer  be  thine  ? 
Would  they  from  thy  side  me  banish, — 

— Then  were  woe  unspoken  mine! 
Never,  never 
Can  they  sever 

Hearts  so  filled  with  love  divine. 
No  and  no!  For  love  unending 

Must  such  love  as  ours  be. 
Great  as  is  his  wrath  unbending — 

Margaretha,  think  of  me. 

Conradin. 

Must  so  soon  their  sunshine  vanish  ? 
Shall  for  her  another  pine  ? 

O,  young  friend,  whom  they  now  banish- 
E'er  to-night  what  fate  is  thine  ? 
Never,  never 
Can  they  sever 
Hearts  bound  fast  by  troth  divine. 

Great  as  seems  thy  sweet  offending, 
Hopeless  let  thy  life  not  be; 

For  such  love  is,  aye,  unending — 
Thine  will  be  the  victory. 

Countess. 

None  too  soon  the  clouds  have  vanish'd, 

She  will  none  too  long  repine; 
That  is  right — he  must  be  banish'd — 

I  well  knew  his  base  design. 
Time,  if  ever, 
'Twas  to  sever 

Hearts  that  showed  love's  every  sign! 
Cousin,  great  was  his  offending, — 

Did  I  not  the  woe  foresee  ? 
Him  about  his  bus'ness  sending, — 

Rids  us  of  his  treachery. 


19 


THE  TRUMPETER  OF  SACKINGEN. 


Huld ! 


Die  Anderen. 

Edler  Herr,  )       .  ^   ,. 

Vaterchen,     [    ^ir  gratuliren 

Und  erbitten  Eure 
Deine 

Ma   St  f  "^^^  Segen  reich  bedacht  sein, 
Nie  vom  Missgescliick  umgarnt. 
Freiherr. 

Dank  Euch!  Dank  fiir  so  viel  Segen;  — 
Freud  und  Gliickwunsch  allerwegen  — 

Doch  des  Schnatterns 

Und  Salbaterns 
1st  es  wahrlich  nun  genug  — 
Werde  selbst  ja  nicht  d'raus  klug! 

Grdfin. 

Schwager,  ach!   ein  Nervenschlag 
Trifft  mich  noch  an  diesem  Tag  — 
Schreckliches  hab'  ich  gesehen  ! 

Freiherr. 
Nun,  was  ist  denn  geschehen  ? 

Gi'dfin. 
Der  dort  so  verwegen  ist, 
Dass  er  Eure  Tochter  kiisst ! 

Freiherr. 

Der  Trompeter  ? 
Donnerwetter! 
Hat  wohl  Fieber 
In  seinem  Kopf? 
Schiitt'  er  sich  driiber 
'nen  Wassertopf ;  — 
Sicherlich  dann  fiihlt 
Er  sich  abgekiihlt! 

Werner, 
Herr  Oberst,  Spott  verdien'  ich  nicht. 

Maria. 
Nein,  Vater,  Spott  verdient  er  nicht. 

Conradifi. 
Nein,  wahrlich,  Spott  verdient  er  nicht. 

Freiherr. 

Meint  ihr  ?  Nun,  so  sag'  ich's  schlicht, — 
Offenheit  ist  meine  Pflicht: 
Seid  zu  spat  dazu  gekommen 
Hab'  mir  einen  Schwiegersohn 
Schon  aus  meinem  Stand  genommen, 
Und  der  wird  noch  heute  kommen  ! 
Auch  fiir  Euch,  Frau  Schwiigerin, 
Hab'  ich  eine  Freud'  im  Sinn. 
Bleibe  Jeder  bei  seiner  Art, 
Trompeter,  wer  Trompeter  ward! 


SECHSTE  SCENE. 
QU  IN  TEXT. 

Maria. 

Wie?  was  hor'  ich  ?  Einem  Andern 
War'  ich,  Vater,  zugedacht  ? 
Werner  sollte  fernhin  wandern. 
Wo  mein  Aug'  ihm  nicht  mehr  lacht, 

Nimmer,  nimmer, 

Ihn  der  Schimmer 
Treuer  Liebe  gliicklich  macht  !  — 
Nein,  o  nein,  so  heisse  Liebe 
Muss  auch  ew'ge  Liebe  sein; 
Ach,  das  Scheiden  ist  so  triibe,  — 
Werner,  nie  vergess*  icli  dein  ! 

Werner, 

Wie  ?  was  hor'  ich?  Einem  Andern 
War'  Maria  zugedacht  ? 
Ruh'los  sollt'  ich  wieder  wandern  ? 
Scliones  Leben,  gute  Nacht  ! 

Nimmer,  nimmer 

Mir  der  Schimmer 
Holden  Gliickes  hier  mehr  lacht!  — 
Glaubte,  dass  so  heisse  Liebe 
MUsst'  auch  ew'ge  Liebe  sein; 
Ach,  das  Scheiden  ist  so  triibe, 
Triiber  das  Vergessensein. 

Conradin. 

Wie  ?  was  hor'  ich  ?  Einem  Andern 
War'  Maria  zugedacht  ? 
Junger  Freund,  musst  du  auch  wandern 
Aus  dem  Schlosse  noch  vor  Nacht, 

Zweifle  nimmer, 

Dass  der  Schimmer 
Holden  Gllicks  dir  wieder  lacht. 
Bricht  der  Trennung  Weh'  auch  triibe 
In  dein  Leben  jetzt  herein, 
Glaub'  mir,  treue  Landsknechtsliebe 
Wird  noch  ihre  Rettung  sein. 

Grdfi?i. 

Ha  !  was  hor'  ich  ?  Welchem  Andern 
Wiir'  Maria  zugedacht  ? 
Das  ist  recht!  —  fort  muss  er  wandern, 
Der  solch'  Leid  in's  Schloss  gebracht 

Sagt'  es  immer,  — 

Doch  viel  schlimmer 
Ward  es  noch,  als  ich  gedacht !  — 
Schwager,  seht  Ihr,  dass  die  Liebe 
Leid  gebracht  in's  Schloss  herein;  — 
Doch  mein  Leben,  das  so  triibe, 
Wodurch  AvoUt  Ihr  es  erfreu'n? 


19 


THE  TRUMPETER   OF  SACKINGEN. 


Baron. 

No,  the  sunshine  has  not  vanish'd — 

He  shall  be  no  son  of  mine; 
Let  his  steed  be  saddled:  banish'd 

He  must  be  for  his  design. 
Vain  is  ever 
The  endeavor 

Up  in  other  ranks  to  shine! 
Yet,  though  great  is  his  offending, 

Sad  is  such  a  harsh  decree; 
Why  did  not  the  fates  befriend  him  ? 

He  a  Wildenstein  should  be. 

Finale. 

A    servant  enters  hastily  and    speaks  with   the 
Baron.) 

The  Baron. 
Hal  Arriv'd  ?     Bid  them  come! 

The  Countess. 
Who  come  ? 

The  Baron. 

The  Count  of  Wildenstein! — 
Comes  with  his  son,  young  Damian, 
For  son-in-law  he's  just  the  man! 


SEVENTH  SCENE. 
(Count  Wildenstein  and  Damian  have  entered.) 

The  Baron. 
Be  welcome!    Aye,  thrice  welcome  be! 

The  Countess. 
O  heaven,  Count  Wildenstein  I  see! 
Has  he  forgot  his  conduct  base  ? 
And  now  dares  meet  me  face  to  face  ? 

Margaretha. 
My  bridegroom — with  the  baby  face  ? 
Here,  I  am  sure,  he's  out  of  place! 

Werner. 

The  hot  blood  rushes  to  my  face — 
Retreat  before  so  poor  a  case. 

Conradin. 

O  see  the  youngster's  putty  face — 
He's  surely  here  much  out  of  place! 

Count  of  Wildenstein. 

Courage,  Damian,  don't  get  frighten'd. 
Hold  your  head  up:  in  you  go: 

There  she  stands,  the  noble  Friiulein, 
Red  as  blood  and  white  as  snow. 

T>amian. 
Yes,  dear  father. 


The  Baron  (to  Damian). 

Don't  get  frighten'd,  my  good  younker, 
Early  wooed,  the  sooner  won; 

Soon  I'll  lead  you  to  my  daughter, 
And  to-day  you'll  both  be  one. 

Damian. 
Yes,  my  colonel! 

Count  of  Wildenstein 
(to  the  Countess). 

Every  feud  at  last  is  settled — 
Every  sorro\/  's  sooth'd  at  last. 

Let  us  be  at  odds  no  longer. 
For  the  end  is  nearing  fast; 

Joined  again,  our  lives  made  stronger, 
Let  us  bury  what  is  passed! 

The  Countess. 

Think  you  at  your  words  depart 
Life-long  sorrows  from  my  heart. 

The  Baron. 

No  more  weeping. 
Let  the  sleeping 
Past  be  blotten 
Out,  forgotten! 

The  Countess  (aside). 

If   but  my    son    with    him  here  he  had 

brought, 
I  would  not  refuse  him  aught. 
As  it  is 


Damian. 

Did  I  do  that  just  as  I  ovight ! 

1  gave  the  wreath  with  grace,  methought? 

Count  of  Wildenstein. 
Yes,  my  son! 

Damian. 
But  still  she  never  on  me  look'd! 

Count  of  Wildetrstein. 
Don't  matter,  son,  she's  safely  book'd! 

Dai7iian  and  Count  ]Vildenstein. 
O  I  (thou)  most  fortunate  Damian! 
The  Baron. 

Pray  heed:    Announc'd  be  far  and  wide 

What  happiness  is  mine: 
Margaretha  of  Schoenau  is  the  bride 

Of  Damian  of  Wildenstein! 


20 


THE  TRUMPETER   OF  SAC  KIN  GEN. 


Freiherr. 

Ja,  ihr  hort  es,  einem  Andern 

1st  Maria  zugedacht. 

Sattelt  ihm  sein  Ross,  denn  wandern 

Muss  der  Spielmann  noch  vor  Nacht; 

Glaubte  nimmer, 

Dass  der  Schimmer 
Neuen  Glticks  so  tollkiihn  macht, 
Dass  der  Strahl  der  ersten  Liebe 
Briich  so  schnell  in's  Herz  herein. 
Schad"!  es  stimmt  mich  selber  triibe; — 
War'  doch  er  der  Wildenstein! 

Finale. 

Der  Freiherr. 
Ha,  da  sind  sie! 

Freiherr. 

Lasst  sie  ein! 

Grdfin. 
Wer  kommt? 

Freiherr. 
Der  Graf  von  Wildenstein 
Mit  seinem  Sohne  Damian;  — 
Zum  Eidam  nahni  ich  den  mir  an! 


SIEBENTE  SCENE. 

Graf  von  Wildenstein  ist  inzwischen  mit  Damian 
zu  den  Vorigen  aufgetreten. 

Freiherr. 
Willkommen!  seit  willkommen  mir! 

Grdfin, 
Bei  Gott  der  Wildensteiner  hier'  — 
Ein  And'rer  wagt'  es  sicher  nicht, 
Zu  treten  vor  mein  Angesicht. 

Maria. 

Mein  Brautigam  —  solch  Milchgesicht  ? 
Nein,  Viiterchen,  den  nehm'  ich  nicht. 

Werner. 
Es  steigt  das  Blut  mir  ins  Gesicht, 
Zu  weichen  solchem  kleinen  Wicht! 


Ei, 


Conradin. 
selit  mir  doch  solch  Milchgesicht: 


Das  scheint  mir  audi  der  Rechte  nicht! 

Graf  V071  Wildenstein. 

Nur  Courage,  nur  nicht  Jingstlich, 
Und  den  Kopf  hiibsch  in  die  Hoh  ;  — 
Sieh  dort  steht  das  Edelfriiulein, 
Roth  wie  Blut  und  weiss  wie  Schnee. 


J  a,  Herr  Vater. 


Damian. 


Freiherr. 


Nur  nicht  angstlich,  mein  Herr  Junker, 
Jung  gefreit  hat  nie  gereut; 
Fiihr  Euch  gleich  zu  meiner  Tochter, 
Werdet  ja  ein  Paar  noch  heut'. 

Damian. 
Ja,  Herr  Oberst. 

Graf  von  Wildenstein  (zur  Grafin). 

Jeder  Hader  hat  sein  Ende, 
Jeden  Kummer  heilt  die  Zeit; 
Wollen  uns  nicht  liinger  gramen  — 
Einsam  stehen  wir  nun  Beid' ;  — 
Lasst  uns  nicht  ins  Grab  mit  nehmen 
Was  wohl  Beide  langst  bereut. 

Grdfin. 

Glaubt  Ihr,  Ihr  scheucht  mit  einem  Wort 
Den  lebenslangen  Kummer  fort  ? 

Freiherr. 

Keine  Scenen, 
Keine  Thriinen: 
's  ist  ja  indessen 
AUes  vergessen  ;  — 
Frisch  und  froh! 

Grdfin  (fiir  sich). 

War's  mein  Sohn,  den  er  mit  sich  gebracht 
Hiitt'  er  Alles  gut  gemacht: 

Aber  so 

Damian. 

Hab'  ich's,  Herr  Vater,  auch  gut  gemacht, 
Als  ich  ihr  den  Strauss  gebracht  ? 

Graf  von  Wildenstein. 
Ja,  mein  Sohn. 

Damian. 
Sie  sieht  mich  aber  gar  nicht  an. 

Graf  von  Wildenstein. 
Thut  nichts,  mein  Sohn,  duwirst  ihr  ]Mann. 

Damian  und  Graf  Wildenstein. 
O  ich  (du)  glUckseliger  Damian  ! 

Freiherr. 
Hort  an  !  verkiinden  will  ich's  laut 
In  alle  Welt  hinein  : 
Maria  von  Schonau  ist  die  Braut 
Des  Junkers  von  Wildenstein  ! 


20 


THE  TRUMPETER   OF  SACKINGEN. 


Margai-etha. 

My  father! — He,  mine  ? 
I  must  decline! 
Such  son-in-law  shall  ne'er  be  thine! 

Werner. 
A  base  design! 
She  will  decline, 
I  know  her  heart  is  safely  mine! 

Countess. 

A  base  design, 
She  must  decline! 
The  son  of  the  hated  one  ne'er  be  thine! 

Conradin. 
A  base  design — 
She  will  decline — 
A  beardless  youth  is  not  in  her  line! 

Damian. 

Margaretha  mine! 
O  joy  divine — 
And  won't  my  father  think  us  fine  ! 

Wildenstein. 

Oh,  fhat's  too  fine — 
A  Wildenstein 
Could  win  in  spite  of  buglers  nine! 

The  Baroii  (to  Werner). 
No  pleading  moves;    no  prayer  avails 

thee; 
Thy   home,   O  bugler,  thou   must   seek 

elsewhere! 
Margaretha. 
No,  no!    I  cannot  let  thee  leave  me! 

Countess. 
Dearest  child,  'twere  best,  believe  me! 

Werner. 
Dearest  one,  O  do  not  grieve  thee! 


loung  TUHerner's  ^Farewell. 

I. 

®  It  Is  6a&  tbat  in  tbis  lite  below 

IClitb  roses  e'er  tbe  cruel  tborns  we  fiiiD; 
:anD  tbougb  tbe  loving  beart  mas  Dream 

anJ)  trow, 
tlbe  parting  comes  too  soon  to  souls  en= 

twin'D. 
2>eep  in  tbine  e^es  5've  gaseD  so  oft  anD 

rea&, 
®t  glowing  \qvc  auD  bappiness  anD  glee ; 


GoD  guarO  tbee,  Xove,  too  quicli  tbe  Oa^s 

bave  spe5:— 
©CD  guard  tbee,   Xove,   it  sboulO  not, 

sboulD  liot  be ! 

II. 

Ipain,  env)5t  bate,  all  tbese— 5've  felt  tbeir 

sting, 
B  wears  wanD'rer,  toss'O  bs  tiooD  anD 

tide; 
5  dreamt  of  peace  and  da^s  of  constant 

spring, 

Bnd  fate  did  lead  me  gladly  to  tbs  side : 

Bnd  in  tbg  presence  3^  bad  lov'd  to  tread» 

%\\  gratitude  ms  life's  love  give  to  tbee; 

(3od  guard  tbee,  Xove,  too  quick  tbe  dags 

bave  sped:— 
©od  guard  tbee,  Xove,  it  sbould  not, 

sbould  not  be ! 

III. 

^be   storm-clouds  speed,  tbe  wind  sigbs 

tbrougb  tbe  leaves, 
B  sbiv'ring  rain  falls  down  o'er  wood  and 

field; 
3ftt  mood  it  is  for  one  wbo  parts  and 

grieves,— 
Dark  as  tbe  skies,  tbe  future  unreveal'd— 
38e  fame  mg  lot,  or  if  too  ill  5'm  wed, 
B'er,  loving  beart,  in  trutb,  5' II  tbink  of 

tbee; 
©od  guard  tbee,  Xove,  too  quick  tbe  dags 

bave  sped:— 
©od  guard  tbee,   Xove.   it  sbould  not, 

sbould  not  be  I 

Chorus. 

Scarcely  met,  yet  doom'd  to  part: 
Bitter  'tis,  O  sorrowing  heart! 

Conradin 

Courage,  friend!    The  morning  bright 
Follows  e'er  the  gloom  of  night. 

Chorics. 

Sorrow-laden,  youthful  pair, 
Ah!  too  soon  comes  your  despair! 
Hour  of  parting,  all  so  grievious — 
Those  who  love  us  best  must  leave  us! 

Margaretha. 

Tender  dreams  of  Maytime  golden — 
Gone,  with  him — for  evermore! 


21 


THE  TRUMPETER   OF  SACKINGEN. 


Maria. 

Mein  Vater,  halt  ein, 
Das  kann  nicht  sein  ; 
Nur  wen  ich  liebe,  werd'  ich  frei'n. 

Werner. 

O  haltet  ein, 
Es  kann  nicht  sein, 
Ihr  stort  den  seligsten  Verein  ! 

Grdfin. 

O  nein,  o  nein, 
Das  darf  nie  sein, 
Den  Sohn  der  Verliassten  soil  sie  nicht 

frei'n 

Conradin. 

O  nein,  o  nein. 
Das  darf  nicht  sein: 
Der  Milchbart  soil  nicht  Herr  hier  sein! 

Damian. 

Maria  mein  ? 
Mein  ganz  allein  ? 
Wie  wird  sich  da  mein  Vater  freu'n  ! 

Wildenstein. 

Was  soil  das  sein  ? 
Ein  Wildenstein 
Weicht  nicht  vor  dem  Trompeterlein  ! 

Freiherr. 

Es  lost  kein  Fleh'n,   kein   Bitten    mein 

Versprechen: 

Dein  Heim,  o  Spielmann,  ist  dies  Schloss 

nicht  mehr  ! 

Maria. 
Nein,  ich  kann  dich  nimmer  lassen  ! 

Grdfin. 
Armes  Kind,  du  musst  dich  fassen! 

Werner. 
SUsses  Kind,  du  musst  dich  fassen! 

I. 

Bas  ist  tm  Xebcn  bassUcb  eingcricbtet, 
2)as9  \)Z\  Oen  IRosen  gleicb   Die  Dovnen 

steb'n, 
TIlnD  was  Das  annc  Ibers  aucb  sebnt  unD 

Dicbtet, 
%\\x\\  $cblu0se   lioiiimt  Das  DoneiuanDec* 

geb'n. 
5n  Deincn  Buacn  bab'  icb  einst  iielesen, 
jEs  blitste  Dcin  von  Xieb'  unD  OUick  ein 

Scbein : 


JSebUt'  Dicb  (Sott,  es  war'  3u  scbon  ge* 

wesen, 

:E3ebUt'  Dicb  (3ott,  es  bat  nicbt  sollcn  seini 

II. 

XeiD,  fleiD  unD  Ibass,  nun  bab'  icb  sie  em* 

ptunDcn, 
Bin  sturmgepriifter,  muDer  "ManDcrsmann, 
%c\)  traunit'  von  jFiieDen  Dann  unD  sel'gen 

StunDcn, 
Da  tUbrte  niicb  Der  IKHeg  3U  Dir  binan, 
3n  Deinen  Brmen  wollt'  icb  oans  genesen^ 
£um  2)anl?c  Dir  mein  junges  Xeben  weib'n— 
JSebut'  Dicb  (3ott,  es  war'  3u  scbon  cie= 

wesen, 
JBebut'  Dicb  (3ott,  es  bat  nicbt  soilen  sein  I 

III. 

2)ie  IKaoll^en  flieb'n,  Der  MinD  saust  Durcb 

Die  JBlatter, 
Bin  IReqenscbauer  3i<^bt  Durcb  "milalD  unD 

3felD. 
%\xw\    BbscbieDnebmen    just    Das   recbte 

mettcr, 
(Brau,  wie  Der  Ditnmel,  stebt  vor  niir  Xiiz 

Welt. 
^Q)Z\i  wenD'  es  sicb  3um  (3uten  oDcr  Sosen, 
Du  scblanke  /IRaiD,   in  ^reuen  Denk'  icb 

Dein! 
JBebiit'  Dicb  0ott,  es  war'  3U  scbwi  ge^ 

wesen, 
JBebiit'  Dicb  ©ott,  es  bat  nicbt  soilen  sein  I 

Chor. 

Kaum  gefunden  —  schon  getrennt! 
Weine,  wer  solch  Leiden  kennt! 

Conradin  (zu  Werner). 

Fasse  Muth!  die  Zeit  bringt  Rath: 
Komm  und  sei  bereit  zur  That. 

Chor. 

Armes,  armes  junges  Paar, 
Ach,  Avie  kurz  dein  Gliick  nun  war! 
Trube  Augen,  Abschiednehmen, 
Scheidestunde  bringst  nur  Griimen! 

Maria. 

Schoner  Traum,  vom  Mai  geboren, 
Bist  mit  ihm  verweht  —  verloren! 


21 


ACT  III. 
8ofut(on  ttiiD  ©nO 


(S[ai«c^ea-Pl^e  (iour^^/aril  ooimiri  fRe  ©Y^afF<t)   of  tRe  S^aron'*^   (ia4>rfc. 


FIRST  SCENE. 


Margaretha. 


I. 

^^  lore  ro&c  out  to  tbe  wiDc,  wlDc  worlD, 
Mitbout  farewell  to  me  saving, 

®  fair  ^oung  Sineer,  ©  beart's  ^eligbt! 

®  Sun  tbat  once  ma&e  ni^  life  so  brigbt, 
3For  tbee  5  am  ever  prating. 

II. 

%  ecarcelg  baO  time  in  bis  e^es  to  lool?, 
So  2:Q)Q\\  was  tbe  sweet  Dream  euDcD ; 

©IILove,  wbat  maKetb  tbg  flame  all  so  sweet? 

€•  Xove,  wbr  mal^est  tbe  beart  so  to  beat?— 
5t  it  breal^— it  cannot  be  menDeD. 

III. 

TKHbere  rides  be  now?  ^be  world  is  so  wi&e, 

©f  deceptions  so  full  and  of  strangers ; 
Bb  me— batb  be  not  to  3tals  bied, 
TlClbere  women  are  fair,  and  false  beside,— 
Cod  guard  bim  amid  all  dangers ! 


tTbe  /llba^dagsjpestival. 

Four  Heralds. 

Now  heed,  ye  peoples,  great  and  small, 
The  message  sent  to  near  and  far  lands; 
And  deck  out  gaily  house  and  hall 
With  wreaths  of  flowers  and  winded 

garlands: 
There  comes  to-day,  for  joy  and  jest, 
A  handsome,  noble-hearted  guest. 
Prince  May  comes  with  a  goodly  throng, 
So  welcome  him  with  shout  and  song. 


^agsSong. 
I. 

tTbere  comes  a  ^outb  of  sweet  renown, 
Bnd  tbrougb  tbe  world  be  wanders ; 

2lnd  wbere  be  goes,  up  bill  and  down, 
1be  jog  aud  splendor  squanders  I 

^be  meads  witb  green  are  decfied  out  faic» 

Cbe  birds  are  singing  evergwbere, 
Bnd  blossom=snow  \\\  sbowers 
jfalls  down  on  grass  and  flowers. 

$0  let  us  sing  witb  ringing  sbout^ 
imitb  beigb  and  balla  beigb,  ©— 

^be  flowers  tbe^  all  now  blossom  out» 
Jn  love  of  gentle  ^a^,  ©  \ 

II. 

J^oung  /iRag  be  lifies  tbis  stir  and  noise, 

Ibis  bumor  never  loses ; 
Bud  tbrougb  tbe  woods  bums  loud  bis  jogs 

Zhz  cbafer,  if  be  cbooses. 
Bud  from  tbeir  mossg  beds  spring  out 
ITbe  flowers  of  Spring  all  roundabout, 

and  lils=bell6  are  ringing, 

3^oung  ^ag  a  welcome  bringing ! 

III. 

Bnd  all  now  dream,  at  least  wbo  can, 

©f  jest  and  love's  sweet  ^earning, 
Bud  mang  a  grag,  but  wortbg  man, 

^binks  youtb  again  returning. 
1f3e  sbouts  bis  jog  across  tbe  IRbine, 
©  sweet  sweetbeart,  for  tbee  3  pine. 

Bud  evergwbere  tbere's  cooing, 

5n  ^ag  'tis  pleasant  wooing  t 

So  let  us  sing  witb  ringing  sbout, 
"SClitb  beigb  and  balla  beigb,  ©— 

Z\iz  flowers  tbcg  all  now  blossom  out, 
5n  love  of  gentle  /llbag,  © !] 


Festal  March  and  Chorus. 


MAY   IDYLL. 
Pantomime   and  Dances. 


'>.'>, 


DRITTER  AKT. 


cJCoF  \A\w^2/iX\a^i^    ho'Z-    *^lVaftV    i^vvb    SHtaiH^c-'Tn'    6c*    ^r.ci-fve^t>{ic^e-H-    Scfvto^dCO'. 


ERSTE  SCENE. 

I. 

5et3t  fst  ex  binaus  In  Me  wcitc  "CQclt, 
Ibat  heinen  BbecbieD  gcnommcn, 
2)u  friscber  Spielmann  in  IClalD  un&  afelD, 
2)u  Sonne,  5ie  meinen  ^ag  erbellt, 
Wann  wtret  Du  mir  wieDer  kommen? 


II. 


IRaum  Da00  icb  ibm  recbt  In  Me  Bugen  ge* 

scbaut, 
So  i9t  5er  C^raum  ecbon  beenDet ;  — 
®  5Ltebe,  was  fiibrst  Du  Me  /IRenscben  3U* 

samm', 
®  Xiebe,  was  scburst  t»u  Dte  susse  jflamm', 
'iimenn  so  balD  unD  traurtg  slcb's  wenDetl 


III. 


mo  3iebt  er  bin?  Die  Welt  ist  so  gross, 
1bat  Oer  ^ucken  so  viel  unD  (3ef abren ;  — 
Br  wirD  wobl  gar  In  Das  llSIlelscblanD  geb'n, 
TUnD  Die  afrauen  sinD  Dort  so  talscb  unD 

scbon  I 
®  mog'  ibn  &er  Ibtmmel  bewabren  I 

Vier  Herolde. 

Hort'  an,  ihr  Volker  dieser  Welt, 
Die  frohe  Botschaft  die  wir  kiinden, 
Und  schmiicket  festlich  Haus   und   Zelt 
Mit  Blumenzier  und  Laubgewinden; 
Es  naht  euch  heut'  zu  kurzer  Rast 
Ein  hoher  koniglicher  Gast: 
Der  Konig  Wein  zieht  mit  iins  ein, 
Lasst  ihn  euch  hochwillkommen  sein! 


Festmarsch  und  Chor 


Chor. 
I. 

Bs  Kommt  ein  wun&ersamcr  Iknab' 
5t3t  Durcb  £)le  Melt  gegangen, 
TllnC)  wo  er  gebt  bergaut,  bergab, 
Ibebt  slcb  ein  ©last  unD  iprangen. 
5n  frlscbem  (3riin  stebt  3f elO  unD  ^bal» 
2)ie  IDogel  singen  all3umal, 
jEin  :Blutbenscbnee  unD  TRcgen 
jfallt  nleDer  allerwegen. 

2>'rum  singen  wlr  Im  MalO  Dies  XieD 
j^Rlt  Ibeis  un&  ^ralale^jen, 
TlClir  singen's,  well  es  sprlesst  unD  blubt» 
Bis  ©russ  Dem  jungen  /llbaien. 

II. 

[Ben  /Hbal  ergotjt  ©ebrumm  unD  Sunun, 

5st  Immer  guter  ILaune, 

Brum  scbwlrren  Durcb  Den  Q:ann  beruni 

Die  ilRalenkafer,  braune, 

lanD  aus  Dem  /nboos  wacbst  scbnell  berfuc 

Ber  3f  rubllngsblumen  scbonste  £ier, 

Ble  wcissen  ©locftcn  lauten 

Ben  /Dbalen  ein  mit  3f  reuDen. 

III. 

5et3unDer  Denftt,  wer  Immer  ftann. 
But  1Rur3weil,  Scber3  unD  /iRlnne; 
/iRancb  elnem  grauen  :f61cbermann 
■HiQirD's  wicDcr  jung  3"  Sinne. 
Br  rutt  biniibcr  uber'n  IRbcin : 
1ber3llebster  Scbat3,  o  lass  micb  ein ! 
'duD  biiben  tout's  unD  Driibcu ; 
5m  ^al  Da  1st  gut  liebcn ! 

B'rum  singen  vx^r  Im  MalD  Dies  XieD 
m\X  1bcl=  uuD  ^ralale^en, 
mir  singen's,  well  es  sprlesst  uuD  blUbt» 
Bis  (Bruss  Dem  jungen  ^alcn.] 


MAI-IDYLLE. 

PaJitomime     mit     Tanz. 


23 


THE  TRUMPETER   OF  S A  KING  EN. 


SECOND  SCENE. 

(The  Baron  and  Count  Wildenstein — after- 
wards the  Countess.  D.imian.  The  Sackingen 
alarm  bells  are  heard.) 

T/ie  Baron. 

Quick,  good  fellows!   Close  the  gate! 
To  the  platform,  up  with  the  cannon! 
At  the  rascals  take  good  aim; — 
Then  the  drawbridge  raise!    Unpleasant 
Work  it  is  to  shoot  at  a  peasant. 

Countess 
(coming  from  the  castle). 

Help!  Dear  Baron!  From  the  mountains 
They  come  down  in  fearful  masses, 
Halberds  bearing — casques  of  iron — 

The  Baron  atid  Wildenstein. 

Let  them  come!    Full  soon  the  asses 
Come  within  fair  range  to  fire  on; 

Not  so  soon; 
Peasant  hies  him  hence  to  croon! 

Damian. 
Oh!  they're  shooting,  near  the  woodshed! 

Countess  and  Margaretha. 
Does  that  give  you  so  much  fright  ? 

Damian. 

Shooting,  no!   Oh,  that's  all  right — 
But  don't  like  this  precious  bloodshed 
Closely  with  it  all  connected. 
When  a  bullet  gets  deflected. 

Coufitess  and  Margaretha. 

Ah!  See  the  coward — see  him  shake — 
Just  the  man  for  me  to  take! 

The  Baron. 

Hark!  Ever  nearer  comes  the  din — 
Ye  women,  better  go  within! 

Count  of  Wildenstei?i. 

Hark!  Ever  nearer — what  a  joy! 
Show  thyself  a  hero,  boy! 

Damian. 
Yes,  my  father! 

Margaretha. 

Here  we'll  stay,  however  hot 
Falls  around  us  angry  shot. 


The  Baron. 
Hark,  the  rascals  asking 
That  the  Schloss  to  them  be  given. 

Count  Wildenstein  and  Chorus  of  Ti  oopers^ 
They  will  have  to  pay  most  dearly. 

The  Baron. 
We're  not  so  hard  as  that  yet  driv'n. 

Coimt  of  Wildenstein. 

My  hero-son  shall  show  them  all 
How  hard  it  is  to  climb  the  wall. 

Damian. 
Yes,  father. 

The  Baron. 
Younker  Damian 
Is  just  for  that  the  proper  man! 

Da?fiian. 
In  truth,  my  colonel! 

IVie  Baron. 

Buckle  my  pallash  at  the  back: 
Then  get  inside  my  buffalo  jerkin; 
Hear  you:  the  gate  they  now  attack — 

Damian. 
Yes,  everywhere  there's  danger  lurking 

The  Baron. 

Now  drive  the  rascals  toward  the  river. 
Let  not  escape  a  single  peasant! 

Damian. 

Their  yelling  fairly  makes  one  shiver; 
And  shooting  such  is  too  unpleasant. 

Chorus  of  Peasants 
(behind  the  scenes). 

Coward  ftnlgbts  auD  cowarD  vassals, 
Xeavc  your  shelter  bcbinD  tbe  castle's 
IRamparts,  anO  stve  open  battle, 
tTben  we'll  malie  gour  armor  rattle: 
Out  to  the  open  fray! 

The  Baron,   Count  and  Chorus  of  Troopers.. 

Now  out  to  the  fight!    Like  heroes  ad- 
vancing, 
Each  lance  find  its  way  to  the  traitor- 
ous breast; 
Not   long  'round   the    ramparts   they'll 
keep  up  their  dancing; 
They'll  find  they  went  out  on  a  danger- 
ous jest — 
Now  to  the  fray! 


23 


THE  TRUMPETER   OF  SACKING  EN. 


ZWEITE    SCENE. 

Der    Freiherr    und    Graf    Wildenstein;     gleich 
darauf  die  Grafin.     Damian, 

Freihei'r. 

Schnell,  ihr  Knechte,  schliesst  das  Thor! 
Zur  Plattform  mit  den  Karthaunen! 
Nehmt  die  Bauern  scharf  aufs  Rohr;  — 
Zieht  die  Zugbriick'  auf!  zu  schirmen 
Gilt's  das  Schloss  jetzt  vor  den  Bauern! 

Grafin. 

Helft,     Herr     Schwager !       Aus     dem 

Schwarzwald 
Kommen  sie  in  hellen  Haufen, 
Hellebarden,  Pickelhauben  — 

Freiherr  und  Graf  von  Wildenstein. 

Lasst  sie  kommen  !  Mogt  uns  glauben  : 

SoUen  air  im  Rhein  ersaufen; 

Nicht  so  bald 

Kehr'  ein  Bauer  heim  zum  Wald  ! 

Damian. 
Ach  !  ich  glaube  gar,  sie  schiessen  ! 

Grafin  und  Maria. 
1st  das  Euch  so  unbequem  ? 

Damian. 

Schiessen  is  mir  wohl  genehm, 
Aber  nicht  das  Blutvergiessen, 
Das  so  leicht  damit  verbunden, 
Da  die  Kugeln  oft  verwunden. 

Grafin  und  Maria. 

Ha,  seht  doch  diesen  Feigling  an, 
Das  war'  mir  just  der  rechte  Mann  ! 

Freiherr. 

Hort  !  naher  riicken  sie  schon  an; 
Ihr  Frauen,  geht  ins  Schloss  hinan  ! 

Graf  von  Wildenstein. 

Horch  !  naher  riicken  sie  schon  an  ; 
Jetzt  zeig'  als  Held  dich,  Damian  ! 


Damian. 


J  a,  mein  Vater. 


Maria. 


Lasst  uns  bleiben!    Nicht  ins  Schloss, 
Denn  ich  fiirchte  kein  Geschoss !  — 


Freiherr. 

Hort,  es  verlangt  die  Bauernrotte, 
Dass  wir  das  Schloss  ihr  iibergeben. 

Graf  von  Wildenstein  und  Chor  der  Reiter. 

Erkaufe  sie's  mit  ihrem  Leben  ! 

Freiherr. 

Nimm   das  zur  Antwort,  freche  Rotte! 

Graf  von  Wildenstein. 

Mein  tapf  rer  Sohn  soil  ihnen  zeigen, 
Wie  schwer  die  Mauern  zu  ersteigen. 

Damian. 
J  a,  Vater, 

Freiherr. 
Junker  Damian, 
Der  ist  dazu  der  rechte  Mann  ! 

Damian. 
Ja  wohl,  Herr  Oberst. 

Freiherr. 

Schnallt  Junker,  meinen  Pallasch  an 
Und  werft  Euch  in  den  BiiffelkoUer : 
Ihr  hort,  der  Sturm  vor'm  Thorbegann. 

Damian. 
Ach  ja,  sie  schiessen  immer  toller. 

Freiherr. 

Ihr  sollt  die  Bauern  so  verjagen, 
Dass  sie  den  Spass  nie  wieder  wagen. 

Damian. 

Ach,  diirft'  ich  es  ihm  doch   nur  sagen  : 
Ich  kann  das  Schiessen  nicht  vertragen. 

Chor  der  Bauern. 

Scblccbte  IRitter,  scblecbte  Iknecbte, 
Slt3en  binter  festen  /Hbauecn, 
IRommt  3um  cbrlicben  (Befecbte, 
TKIlenn  Vox.  ilftutb  babt,  wlc  wir  JSauern ! 
Heraus  denn  zur  Schlacht ! 

Freiherr,  Graf  und  Chor  der  Landsknechte. 

Wohlauf  denn  zur  Schlacht!  die  Lanzen 

erhoben ! 

Dem  Feinde  geboten  die  tapfere  Brust  ; 

Sie  sollen  nicht  Uinger  die  Mauern  vim- 

toben, 

Zu   siegen,   zu   sterben   ist   krieg'rische 

Lust ! 

Wohlauf  denn  zur  Schlacht ! 


23 


THE  TRUMPETER   OF  SACKINGEN. 


THIRD  SCENE. 

(The   Baron,    Count    of  Wildenstein,    Marga- 
retha,  the  Countess,  and  a  few  of  the  vassals.) 

The  Baron 
Just  hark!  The  rascals  battle  hard  ! 

Count  of  Wildenstein. 

Give  heed,  before  my  Damian's  sword  ! 
He'll  show  you  quickly  who  is  lord. 

The  Baron. 

Ei,  truly  !  greater  joy  were  mine 
Were  he  not  Count  of  Wildenstein. 

Damian. 
(loud  knocking  is  heard  at  the  gate.) 

Oh,  quick  !  Make  wide  !  And  let  me  in! 

The  Baron  (surprised). 

Count,  do  you  hear' — Let  him  within  ! 

(They  open  the  gate.) 


FOURTH  SCENE. 

Damian. 
(rushing  in.) 

O  horror,  father,  this  plebeian  horde, 
Don't  understand  the  way  of  fighting 

proper; 
They  hew'd  my  helmet  off  ;  my  doublet 

siash'd. 
And   split  my  pallash  with  a  common 

chopper. 

The  Baron. 

Eagles  would  not  get  their  claws  cut 
If  before,  they  were  not  caught. 
Forward  !  Fall  in  battle  rather 
Than  by  rascals  such  be  captured. 

The  Troops. 

Forward  !  Fall  in  battle  rather 
Than  by  rascals  such  be  captured. 


FIFTH  SCENE. 
Werner  appears  with  Conradin. 

The  Baron,  Count  of  Wildenstein,  Countess 

and  Troopers. 

(greeting  Werner  joyously.) 

Hail,  O  Werner!   Hail,  O  Victor! 

Through  him  all  was  done. 

And  vict'ry  won! 
Praise  and  thanks,  thou  bugler  bravest. 


Margareiha. 

Thou  here,  my  beloved  Werner? 
Here  once  more!  O  joy  divine! 

Werner. 

Margaretha,  thou  my  glory! 
Margaretha,  sweetest,  mine! 

Margaretha. 

Gracious  heav'n!    See!    He's  wounded! 
Look  you,  look,  like  rich  red  roses 
Wells  forth  from  his  arm  the  blood. 

(the  Countess  hastens  to  Werner,  whose  doublet 
is  being  unfastened.) 

Conradin. 

What  is  this  I  here  discover? — 
Countess,  see!  A  birthmark  here 
Just  like  yours. 

The  Countess. 

Gracious  heaven! 
Aid  me!  On  me  Heaven  have  mercy!— 
Ah!  My  son — and  wounded — 

The  Baron. 

And  my  daughter  the  reward ;- 
For  the  coward  Damian 
Ne'er  can  be  my  son-in-law! 

Damian. 

Come,  my  father! — I  wont  whine — 
Let's  ride  again  to  Wildenstein! 

Count  and  Countess  of  Wildenstein. 

In  Heaven's  name!  But  Wildenstein, 
Will  go  to  him,  in  rightful  line. 

Countess  and  Maria. 

O  how  my  heart  now  thrills  with  bliss. 
Into  newly  waken'd  glory! 

Conradin. 

®  IRbinelanD's  cbilOren,  is  not  tbls 
21  ver^,  vers  curious  storg  ? 

(Citizens,  men  and  women,  arrive.) 
Chorus  of  Citizens. 

See,  yoving  Werner — our  deliverer! 
From  the  foe  the  town  he  free'd! 
Drove  the  peasant  to  his  mountains. 
Thank  him,  praise  his  glorious  deed! 


24 


THE  TRUMPETER   OF  SACKINGEN. 


DRITTE  SCENE. 

(Der  Freiherr,  Graf  von  Wildenstein,  Maria  und 
die  Grafin,  wenige  Knechte.) 

Freiherr. 
Hort  an,  wie  sich  der  Bauer  wehrt ! 

Graf  von  Wildenstein. 

Gebt  Acht !  vor  meines  Sohnes  Schwert 
Macht  ihre  Schaar  bald  rechtsum  kehrt. 

Freiherr. 

Ei  freilich  !  wiird'  es  anders  sein, 
War'  er  kein  Graf  von  Wildenstein. 

Datnian 

Macht  auf  !  —  macht  auf  und  lasst  mich 

ein  ! 

Freiherr. 
Hort  Ihr  es,  Graf  ?  —  So  lasst  ihn  ein  ! 


VIERTE  SCENE. 

Damian. 

Tax  Hilfe,  Vater!  dies  gemeine  Volk 
Versteht    nicht    einmal    regelrecht    zu 

fechten, 
Hat  mir  den  Helm  zerhau'n,  das  Wamms 

zerfetzt 
Und  schlug  mir  selbst  den  Pallasch  aus 

der    Rechten  ! 

Freiherr. 

Keiner  stutzt  dem  Aar  die  Krallen, 
Ohne  ihn  vorher  zu  fangen, 
Vorwiirts  !  besser  ehrlich  fallen, 
Als  von  solchem  Volk  gefangen! 

Die  Reiter. 

Vorwiirts  !  besser  ehrlich  fallen, 
Als  von  solchem  Volk  gefangen  ! 


FUENFTE  SCENE. 
Werner  erscheint  mit  Conradin. 

Freiherr,  Graf  von  Wildenstein,  Grafin  und 
Chor  der  Reiter. 

(Werner  freudig  begriissend.) 

Heil  dem  Tapfern  !  Heil  dem  Sieger ! 

Der  des  Feindes  Hand 

Uns  entwand  ;  — 

Heil  und  Dank  euch,  tapf 're  Krieger  ! 


Maria. 

Du  hier,  mein  geliebter  Werner? 
Welches  Gliick  !  Ich  fass'  es  kaum  ! 

Werner. 

O  Maria,  du  mein  Leben ! 
O  Maria,  du  mein  Traum  ! 

Maria. 

Heil'ger  Gott,  er  ist  verwundet  !  — 
Seht  nur,  seht,  wie  junge  Rosen, 
Quillt  aus  seinem  Arm  das  Blut. 

Co7iradin. 

Doch  was  muss  ich  hier  entdecken  ? 
Grafin  —  seht !  Ein  Mai  am  Arme, 
Just  wie  Eures  — 

Grafin. 

Freude  !  Schrecken  ! 
Helft  mir  !  dass  sich  Gott  erbarme  ! 
Ach,  mein  Sohn  —  verwundet 

Freiherr. 

Und  Maria  wird  dein  Lohn  ; 
Denn  den  feigen  Damian 
Nehm'  ich  nie  zum  Eidam  an  ! 

Damian. 

Kommt,  Herr  Vater  !    —   Ich  packe  ein 
Und  reite  zuriick  nach  Wildenstein. 

Graf  und  Grafin  von  Wildenstein. 

In  Gottes  Namen  !   doch  Wildenstein. 
Wird  nun  dem  rechten  Erben  sein. 

Grafin  und  Maria. 

Ach,  wie  mein  Herz  voll  Freude  bebt, 
Als  fuhlt's  sein  Gliick  erwachen. 

Conradin. 

©  TRbclncsftlnDer,  man  cricbt 
Docb  sonDerbarlicbc  Sacben : 

(Biirger  und  Blirgerinnen  kommen.) 

Chor  der  Biirger  und  Bilrgerinnen. 

Seht,  da  ist  er  —  unser  Retter, 
Der  die  Stadt  vom  Feind  befreit 
Und  die  Bauern  in  die  Fluch  trieb : 
Dank  und  Preis  sei  ihm  geweiht ! 


24 


THE  TRUMPETER  OF  SACKINGEN. 


Werner. 

Werner. 

IDoung  Werner  is  surely  tbe  bappicst  man, 

3rn  all  tbis  vviDe  realm  IRoinan ; 

:l6ut  wbere  be  all  bis  great  jog  won, 

1be  sags  in  vvor&s  to  no  man— 

1be  onig  sags  witb  a  Ibip !  Iburrab ! 

1bovv  wondrous  beautiful  is  ^ag— 

^rue  Xove,  %  give  tbee  greeting ! 

5ung  merner  ist  Der  gluckseligste  ^ann 
5m  romiscben  IRcicb  geworden; 
2)ocb  wer  ^ziw  ©lUck  ibm  angetban, 
Das  sagt  er  nicbt  mlt  Morten  — 
©as  sagt  er  nur  mit  Ibci  Jucbei !  — 
Mie  wunderscbon  ist  docb  der  ^ai, 
^einslieb,  icb  tbu'  dicb  grUssen ! 

Margaretha  and  Werner. 

Maria  und  Werner. 

tTrue  Xove,  %  give  tbee  greeting ! 
Thus  to  love,  with  love  unending, 

Loving  and  belov'd  to  be; 
Two  souls  with  each  other  blending — 

That  is  true  love's  victory! 

3f  einslieb,  icb  tbu'  dicb  grUssen ! 
So  unendlich  heiss  zu  lieben, 
Lieben  und  geliebt  zu  sein, 
So  mit  ganzer  Seele  lieben. 
Das  ist  Seligkeit  allein  ! 

General  Chorus. 

Allgemeiner  Schlusschor. 

ffaitbful  love  and  bugle  blowing, 

■mseful  are  tull  oft  in  life ; 
jfaitbful  love  and  bugle  blowing, 

B'en  can  win  a  noble  wife. 
Jaitbful  love  and  bugle  blowing, 

:Sring  to  alt  sucb  jog  as  wben, 
l^oung  Sir  ICGlerner  blew  bis  bugle, 

©n  tbe  Kbine  at  Sackingen! 

Hiebe  und  tTrompetenblasen 
IRiitscn  3U  viel  guten  Dingen, 
Xiebe  und  ^rompctenblasen 
$elbst  ciw  ad'lig  ICleib  erringen ; 
Xiebe  und  G;rompetenbla8en, 
iflftog'  es  5edem  so  gelingen 
Mie  dcm  Iberrn  ^rompeter  Werner 
Bn  dem  IRbeine  ^xa  $acKingen! 

I 


END    OF    THE    OPERA. 


25 


Selected  from  the  Numerous  Testimonials  in  possession  of 

WM.   KNABE  &   CO. 


Messrs.  Wm.  Knabe  &  Co. 

Gentlemen :  I  have  great  pleasure  in  certifying  that  I  have  tried  your  Square  Pianos,  and 
find  them  equal,  if  not  superior,  to  any  in  this  country.  Among  the  great  qualities  which 
distinguish  them  is  the  evenness  of  tone,  the  easy  and  agreeable  touch  and  volume  of  tone. 
Wishing  you  all  the  success  which  you  so  highly  deserve,  I  am,  sirs. 

Yours  very  truly, 
___^_ S.  THALBERG. 

After  having  played  on  the  piano  of  Messrs.  Knabe  &  Co.,  it  is  impossible  not  to  bear 
testimony  to  the  qualities  which  have  acquired  for  them  the  eminent  reputation  which  they 
enjoy.  The  pianos  of  their  manufacture  on  which  I  have  played  are  exceedingly  remarkable 
for  their  qualities  of  to7ie.  The  bass  is  powerful,  without  harshness,  and  the  upper  notes  sweet, 
clear  and  harmoniously  mellow,  (crystalline,)  and  I  do  not  hesitate  to  express,  in  regard  to 
these  instruments,  my  entire  satisfaction,  and  to  declare  that  they  are  equal,  if  not  superior,  to 
the  best  manufactured  in  Europe  or  this  country  by  the  most  celebrated  makers. 

L.  M.  GOTTSCHALK. 

Messrs.  Wm.  Knabe  &  Co.,  Baltimore. 

Gentlemen :  It  gives  me  pleasure  to  state  that  the  Grand  Pianos,  upon  which  I  played  at 
the  houses  of  several  of  my  friends  in  this  city,  are  instruments  of  the  very  first  merit.  The 
quality  of  tone  is  remarkable  for  its  prolongation — singing  quality — combining  both  sweetness 
and  great  power.  The  action  very  easy,  and  at  the  same  time  elastic,  enables  the  artist  to  vary 
the  tone  from  the  greatest  softness  to  the  most  powerful  fortissimo  by  the  touch  alone.  Allow 
me,  gentlemen,  to  congratulate  you  on  the  perfection  which  you  have  attained  in  your  instru- 
ments. I  regret  that  you  were  not  represented  at  the  Exposition  Universelle,  as  your  name 
would  certainly  have  added  additional  honor  and  success  to  American  Industry  and  skill. 
Accept  my  most  cordial  regards.  (Signed),  MARMONTEL, 

Professor  of  the  Conservatory  of  Music,  Paris. 


Messrs.  Wm.  Knabe  &  Co. 

Gentlemen  :  With  great  pleasure  I  give  you  my  opinion  of  your  instruments,  as  it  is  not 
difficult  to  praise  what  is  really  perfect  and  excellent,  and  these  predicates  I  have  to  give  to 
your  instruments.  This  solidity  and  durability  of  construction,  this  power,  beauty  and  equal- 
ness  of  tone,  this  easiness,  elasticity  and  infallibility  of  the  action  of  your  pianos,  can  hardly  be 
reached,  and  not  be  surpassed,  by  any  other  piano.  I  only  add  that  I  was  satisfied  in  the  high- 
est degree  by  my  frequent  use  of  your  Concert  Grands  last  season,  and  that  I  have  decided  to 
continue  to  use  your  famous  instruments  for  my  future  public  renditions. 

Yours  very  truly,  CARL  FAELTEN. 

Baltimore,  Sept.  25,  18S3. 

The  Grand  Pianos,  by  Messrs.  Knabe  &  Co.,  are  remarkable  both  for  touch  and  tone, 
while  the  ingenious  addition  of  the  third  or  sustaining  pedal  enables  the  performer  to  produce 
effects  of  a  very  novel  and  interesting  character. 
London,  November  4,  1S78  BRINLEY  RICHARDS. 

Messrs.  Wm.  Knabe  &  Co.,  New  York  and  Baltimore. 

Gentlemen:— I  take  pleasure  to  state  that  the  Pianos  of  your  manufacture  deserve  fully  the 
fame  they  have  acquired  throughout  the  world.  Your  instruments— Grands,  Squares  and 
Uprights— are  perfect  in  power  and  sweetness  of  tone  ;  remarkable  for  the  easy  and  even 
touch  'y  in  fact,  first-class  in  every  respect. 

Nezv  York,  August,  1882.  DR.  LEOPOLD  DAMROSCH. 


\ 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

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This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


MANUFACTURERS    OF    GRAND,   UPRIGHT  AND  SQUARE 


WAREROOMS: 


NEW  YORK: 

No.    112    FIFTH    AVENUE, 
ABOVE  SIXTEENTH  ST. 

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Nos.  22  &  24  E.  BALTIMORE  ST..  No.  817   PENNSYLVANIA  AVENUt: 

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